Star Trek: Warlord, Refits and Replacements
by Morphere
Summary: The continuing voyages of the Dreadnaught mark II class starship, the USS Warlord. This story is now complete. Please review and tell me what you think! Story number three is under construction.
1. Chapter 1

"Captain's log, stardate: 56867.6, Commander Kirk reporting... We have entered the Sol system. Home is just a few hours away. Admiral Leonard has informed me the big launch party for the Warlord has finally been delayed, but will still occur, even though everyone in the alpha quadrant knows about it now. A bunch of the techies from Vega are headed here to help with the repairs and refits. Captain Velasquez's neurologist said the virus is finally gone and he's started repairs of her brain tissue. He said the damage to her brain was really severe. He's not sure how much good he can do with his current techniques. Anyway, I feel kind of sorry for the Enterprise. With the all-hands-on-deck-for-the-Warlord atomosphere, the Enterprise's repairs have to take a back seat. After what we've been through, we're all just glad to be home. End log entry."

With enough repairs to the damaged vessel made, the crew had gotten back to a much needed 'normal' shift rotation with the exception of the bridge crew, who had to pull double shifts. Commander Kirk was at the navigation console, giving Ensign Bristol a break. He actually preferred sitting at this seat for now. It reminded him of days that seemed so long ago when he didn't have to make life or death decisions, he just followed orders. His mind drifted back to the sick bay and the four bodies that laid under shrouds. Eight people had actually lost their lives during their battle with the Rapier, but four were irretrievably lost to space when the starboard cannon exploded. As difficult as it was, he had already contacted each of the families to inform them of their loss. The memories of those conversations were still fresh in his head.

He looked over at the tactical console, where T'Nia would normally sit. The burned out frame was covered in a white sheet with a note that read "Room service requested" pinned to it. Kirk smiled at the notion of a Vulcan with a sense of humor. It had taken Kirk awhile to realize how close T'Nia had come to dying during that fight. The notion of a life without her friendship made him wince. All around the desceptively small bridge he could see scorch marks in the walls and ceiling tiles where power relays had overloaded and blown. One of the ceiling tiles had completely come loose and was hanging only by light wires. A few marks of blood littered the floor tiles. He noted a particularly good sized spot near the front of the bridge was his own. Stephen instinctively felt his forehead to ensure the wound had, in fact, healed.

The only other people currently on the bridge were Lieutenant Davies, who had buried herself in various transmissions from Earth and Mars, Ensign P'rr's, who spent hours asking all manner of questions as soon as she walked in the door, and Doctor Rass, who had been intently reading something on a PADD. Stephen was concerned for Elaine Davies. He didn't know her well, but the events of the past week had really shaken her up. Before the fight, she had been light hearted and talkative. Since, she had been quite reclusive, and what little conversation she did have was with Tony. That was okay, Stephen thought. Tony has always been a free spirit. The battle hadn't affected him much at all, IF at all. Perhaps their friendship can help pull her out. Until yesterday, Stephen didn't even know a Catian was on board... not that he minded. He had served previously with a mated pair of Catians aboard the Vigilant. P'rr's seemed to have come through the battle well enough. Her speed and agility had kept her from being harmed in any way. Doctor Rass had finally seen the last of his patients return to duty, which is what gave him the time to take his seat on the bridge for the first time since he had come aboard. His performance during the battle should garner him yet another award. He was certainly deserving of it... everyone was.

With a few button taps on his console, the small navigation screen switched views to their escort ship, the USS Enterprise E. As badly as Warlord had fared in its battle, Enterprise fared far worse. The front half of the main saucer section had been completely destroyed, exposing most of the decks to space. All over the vessels structure were signs of damage, whether it be simple burn marks of near misses, dents or full aperture. The port engine was useless and dark. Even the deflector dish had been destroyed, which was why Warlord had taken the lead. Over two hundred people had died on Enterprise during their battle. Even after this, the Romulan government was still in complete chaos and the Remans were still a viable threat to the Empire. Stephen hoped these sacrifices were worth it.

The navigation console beeped at him, informing him that Warlord had reached the outer marker of the Sol system and home. That warning told him to drop out of warp and proceed at impulse power. It also told him that, because of the time of year and direction they were coming from, they were about four and a half hours from the mammoth structure known as Spacedock... and home. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Warlord, you have been cleared to dock on pier six. Door three is opening on the far side to let you in. Enterprise will be docking through door one. The dockmaster will remote your ship to the pier once you reach the doors. On behalf of the personnel at Spacedock Alpha, congratulations and welcome home. Spacedock out."

Lieutenant Elaine Davies turned off the communications, but didn't turn around immediately. She was fighting back the tears. The words 'welcome home' had almost sent her over the edge. She had been so certain she'd never see Earth again. Yet, for her paralyzing fear, she was days away from receiving an award for her bravery. The irony of that thought almost made her laugh out loud. She successfully kept the tears back, then dared to turn around and look at the viewscreen. The diameter of Earth loomed so large, they could only see a portion of it on the screen. In the center, looking like a giant, white mushroom, was Spacedock Alpha. It all looked so peaceful... and such a stark contrast to the collisions, explosions, and chaos from just a few days ago. Yet, it seemed so distant. Unknown to everyone on the Warlord, including her new friend, Tony Moreaux, she had seriously considered leaving Starfleet. The reality of this ship's mission had almost gotten the better of her. War wasn't something she wanted to be a part of. Yet, something Tony had said sparked something in her. "We didn't fight a war," he told her, "we prevented one." If that was Warlord's true purpose, she could actually live with that.

Lieutenant Tony Moreaux looked at the rapidly growing image of Earth on the viewscreen anxiously. The food replicators came close, but there was just no substitute for a slice of genuine, Chicago-style pizza and a good beer to chase it with. Tony had to make a number of adjustments to his thinking lately. Thankfully, Chicago was something he could always rely on. In his mind, he had always held back some ill feelings towards his friend and now superior officer, Steve. Rumors littered Steve's military career regarding his family lineage and the doors it may have opened or closed. The way Steve got into the Academy, his grades, even his promotions added some merit to the rumors. Tony had to admit he had believed them at least to a point. He had convinced himself that Steve's coat-tail riding was going to be his downfall during their battle. Yet, against horrible odds, the enemy was destroyed and he could make out North America. On top of that, Tony now had a new friend, Elaine. Things were really starting to look up for him. He could smell the pepperoni already. He wondered if Elaine would be interested in joining him...

Warlord had come too close to the northern hemisphere of Earth for Lieutenant Tom Kelly to see Australia. He didn't mind, though. He knew it was there. If pressed, he would be willing to admit there were times when he thought his time had come. It got especially bad when the left support wall collapsed on him and his team. He was pinned under a secondary power tube, but to his good fortune, the tube wound up deflecting a number of chunks of wall that would have killed him. Four of his crew weren't so lucky, though. Still, Commander Kirk was right. We had a good crew and a sturdy ship and that combination had seen them to victory... just like he said. Kirk looked rather young for a first officer, but he had handled himself well. This was going to be a great assignment. Everyone was regarding Tom as a step short of God. When the award ceremony was over and the crowds left, though...he'd be content to sit in that little rowboat of his just outside of Brisbane and fish...not that he ever caught anything.

Ensign Tyler Bristol watched as the islands of Great Britain slowly moved past under cloud cover. Sure, in the end, Commander Kirk took the controls, but with good reason. After all, he was one of the best fighter pilots in recent Academy history. Up until then... he was the principal helmsman. He had flown in actual combat, taken on a brand new, all powerful Reman warship... and they won! It was even better than the books he had read. Now, he's going back to a hero's welcome! This was exactly why he had joined Starfleet. This would be his first medal since his first assignment a year ago. Tyler already had a place for it set aside in his quarters, on the shelves next to his model hyperbike collection. That way, there would be room for more... and he intended to earn more. This ship was his ticket to respect... from himself and from his father.

Lieutenant Commander T'Nia considered the bluish-green planet covered in blotches of white for several seconds. It was an alien planet full of people who were virtually the exact opposite of her own culture. Yet, even though she had only known Earth during her Academy days, it was a place of comfort for her. Her parents had been reluctant to embrace her entrance into Starfleet Academy. They had been rather insistent on her continuing the family work of archeology. Her mind drifted back to the reddish-brown planet of Vulcan and her parents. She had already contacted them and informed them of her 'adventures' as they put it. Eventually, even they had to admit T'Nia was invaluable to this crew and her friends. She had finally earned their respect and blessing. Now...if she could just convince her betrothed.

Doctor Rass Dorrin sat in his seat to the left of the captain's chair. He was getting quite comfortable sitting there. It was a seat of authority...importance. When the crew of the Warlord was seen by others, this seat featured prominantly. He did carry the title of 'Lieutenant Commander', though not as a bridge officer. Perhaps, one day, he would finish that. These past several days had been quite taxing on him. He had over thirty people with various injuries come through his office. At one point, it had gotten so bad, he actually had to let that damned EMH loose for awhile. Thankfully, the EMH was capable of performing the examinations and certifications of the deceased. That was a job he'd never get used to... after all, he was a doctor and in the business of healing. That he had done splendidly, if he did say so himself. This medal he was due to receive was certainly deserved. As he surveyed his crewmates, he freely admitted he was surrounded by an astonishing amount of talent. Now...if only he could get a real nurse, he could turn off that stupid EMH once and for all.

The great ship slowly made its way around the space station. Spacedock Alpha was one of the few man-made structures that dwarfed Warlord. Eventually, the viewscreen revealed a large, rectangular opening with blinking lights all around. As Warlord approached the opening, the maneuvering thrusters powered down to half. Bristol turned to Commander Kirk with a smile. "Commander, I no longer have control of the ship."

"Understood, Ensign." Kirk replied.

Elaine removed her earpiece. "Commander, the dockmaster has asked us to just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Kirk turned back to her. "Send our acknowledgement, Lieutenant. By the way, did you ever find out how the Broncos did Sunday?"

Elaine acknowledged the instructions. "Oh, I'm sorry, Commander. Yes, I did. They beat Tennessee twenty-seven to seventeen. They're four and five now."

"See?" Kirk asked with a smile. "Things are just looking up all over."

Warlord had to pivot a bit in order to get through the door. The slanted image on the viewscreen made most of the bridge crew momentarily uneasy. It cleared, though. The viewscreen now displayed a giant room with a number of retractable walkways against the walls. The room was illuminated by over a dozen lights mounted to movable arms. Each light was easily the size of a large shuttle. Windows dotted all the walls with one dome directly in the center. There was one other ship in this hangar, the USS Horizon. Seven shuttles could be seen moving this way and that. One was carrying supplies, another building material, and others hauling away waste parts.

Warlord's maneuvering thrusters activated again. This time, it was to re-align the ship to parallel and move it up and to the side. As the vessel came to an eventual stop, a number of slight, dull thuds could be heard indicating the walkways had successfully attached to the ship. Kirk clasped his hands together and stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are home." 


	3. Chapter 3

The bridge crew had to go down the turbolift in order to reach the nearest walkway. Things got a little cozy as the seven tried to fit into the small room. They smiled somewhat uncomfortably at each other as elbows knocked and toes were stepped on. Stephen grabbed the control lever. "Deck three, section five." Slowly, the turbolift shook to life as it went over, then down.

Tom was the first to speak. "So, exactly what's going to happen while we're all enjoying our week off?"

Stephen smiled. "Well, from what I was told, the Starfleet corps of engineers will be repairing the hull. We'll also be getting most of our missing pieces, too. Oh, they'll be fixing some of the interior damage, too. That's about it. The admiral told me they wouldn't install anything until you and your team came back."

Tom smiled and nodded satisfaction with that statement. "Good. I wouldn't want her touchin' my girl without me here." Doctor Rass shook his head.

"Will we be able to see the damage to the ship once we're outside?" Lieutenant Davies asked. Part of her wanted to see it... part of her didn't want to know how close they had come to their mortality.

"Well," Kirk started, trying to remember the layout of the Spacedock. "not from the walkway. Once we get into Spacedock, you should be able to walk around and see it from the windows. It's like that for the other hangars. This area may be secured, but the windows all looked open to me. I'm kind of curious to see what happened myself."

The doors to the turbolift opened, almost expelling its passengers in the process. The nearest hatch already had at least thirty people lined up. An engineering ensign was already at the hatch controls. Upon seeing the bridge crew, they all stood at attention. "At ease." Commander Kirk said, waving his hand. "What's our status, Ensign?"

The young ensign replied excitedly, "They've attached the catwalk and pressurized it. The decontamination beams are powering up. They should be giving us the green light..." Just then, a red light above the hatch turned green. The hiss of escaping gas came from the side of the door near the hinges. Slowly, the inner door backed itself into its housing and slid into the wall. The outer door had already slid back. "The door's secured, Sir." The ensign replied weakly.

"I noticed that." Kirk said with a smile. He raised his voice a little. "Alright, everyone. Let's be professional about this. Everyone out... nice orderly fashion." Eagerly, the line filed into the white-lit walkway. As expected, there were no windows. As each person walked forward, they were all progressively scanned with red beams, green beams, yellow beams, and finally orange beams. There was an air of excitement among the crewmembers with animated discussions of where people were going, who they were seeing, and how they intended to spend their week off. There wasn't a single discussion of the award ceremony being held in just over a week for the Enterprise and Warlord crews. "This is a well deserved break." Stephen thought to himself. "We had to grow up a lot over the past couple of months."

As the group rounded the turn into the station itself, they were greeted with applause from a number of enlisted men and officers who were standing by the door. Among them was Admiral Angus Leonard. He was taller than most, but slightly stooped in his old age. Yet, his wrinkled eyes still had a twinkle left and his short, well-trimmed beard only partly hid his smile. Other Warlord crew were coming down this hallway as well, presumably from the other walkways further down the hall. Admiral Leonard made sure to greet everyone with a "Welcome home," "Well done," "I'm so proud of you," or 'Congratulations." Somehow, despite all his other responsiblities and his advanced age, the admiral still called almost everyone by name. It was amazing to see the weariness on his crew's faces vanish like turning on a light at his presence. As the crew walked past him, they seemed to stand a little straighter. That was Admiral Leonard, though. Although Stephen had his share of detractors among the upper eschelon of Starfleet, he was never among them. Always encouraging, always positive- there were times when Stephen thought of Angus more like a second father than a superior officer.

As Stephen finally advanced to Admiral Leonard, he saluted. The admiral, however, offered his hand. With a smile, Stephen took it. Immediately, Kirk felt better. The admiral had done it again, and he hadn't said a word yet. "Commander Kirk," Admiral Leonard started with a mock stern tone, "I lost money on you."

Cocking his head to one side, Kirk questioned, "How's that?"

With a wink, the admiral replied, "I had bet you'd have dispatched that Reman beastie in twelve minutes, and it took you almost twenty!" The admiral gave a haughty laugh, followed by everyone around.

Stephen couldn't help but laugh. "My apologies for your loss, Sir. I'll try to get your money back next time."

"You better. I don't intend to change the amount of my wager, nor whom I'm betting on, any time soon." Leonard's tone lightening considerably. "I'm sure I'll talk to each of you before the ceremony next week, but until then...enjoy your time off!" The crew cheered and went on their way. Leonard continued greeting each of the crew as they passed by.

As the crew continued walking down the main corridor, they noticed several crewmen staring out the nearest window. Upon reaching the window, they looked out themselves and gasped. Warlord looked terrible... much worse than the interior condition would indicate. Scorch marks riddled the exterior. The left front of the saucer section had been completely smashed inward. Two long burn marks ran down the underside of the remaining saucer section. The main body took the worst of the attack, partly due to the explosion of the starboard cannon. The starboard nacell had come completely off. To the rear left of the main body was a gigantic crator where the prefire chamber of the starboard cannon used to be. The explosion also warped the fin holding the dorsal nacell to where it looked visibly crooked. There were two other holes in the main structure as well, near the front. Each one was mere meters from hitting the deflector array instead.

Stephen looked in shock, almost disbelief, at the vision before him. "Dear Lord," he said quietly.

Tony whistled. "Look at that. No other vessel in Starfleet would have survived that."

T'Nia looked back to Tony with a raised eyebrow. "That conclusion is illogical, since we all know that Enterprise survived as well."

Tony quipped, "Only because the commander of the Scimitar wanted the Enterprise crew alive. The commander of the Rapier just wanted us dead."

T'Nia considered his words, "True enough." She admitted.

Their spider-like friend came up behind them, having finally made his way past the admiral's welcoming committee. As he looked at the ship before him, Box slowly shook his head. "Hhhhhhi told them we needed a warantee."

Tony shot Box a sideways glance. "Nobody likes a smart alec."

Box shook and chimed with laughter. He put several of his arms around his friends, both old and new. "Hhhhhhwho's hungry for Chinese?" He asked with a giant, toothy grin. 


	4. Chapter 4

After patiently waiting his turn, he finally approached the transporter room at the Spacedock. It was a relatively large, round room with three separate transporter pads. Although it was a standard industrial gray in color, there were a number of colorful, bulging wall panels hiding various forms of circuitry to keep the place somewhat cheery. Currently, there was only one transporter chief on duty, and he looked fairly bored with his job. Tom walked up to the pad and told the transporter chief, "Brisbane Transport Center, please." 

The chief nodded and pressed a few buttons on his console. A few minutes later, when Spacedock had reached line of sight orbit with Brisbane, Australia, a light flashed from red, to yellow, and finally to green, indicating the transport lane was clear. "Stand by," the chief said flatly.

The entire transporter area began to hum with an increasing frequency. Tom was then surrounded by flashes of silver light that increased in number and brightness until there was nothing but white around him. For a split second, he was nowhere, floating in an endless white with no up or down. As quickly as it begun, the light began to dissapate back into silvery flashes. He found himself standing in a transporter pad in the bustling Brisbane Transport Center. 

It was a place he had been many times before, but he always took it in warmly when he got there. The Center was a massive, open structure that was made of mostly glass. The building jutted out at various points, each representing a gate. There were numerous transport pads in the center of the building along with many kiosks and even several trees and shrubs. As always, there were hundreds of people busily walking here or there, going to and from personal conveyances, shuttles, or transporters. Barely discernable over the noise was some kind of native, Aborigine music.

"Lieutenant Kelly, please step off the pad." The female transport operater stated with a wonderfully refreshing Australian accent. With a friendly smile, she motioned him off the pad and towards a roped off walkway.

"Sorry," Tom said with a smile. He shuffled off. My, she was attractive, he thought. "It's good to be home." He looked at her name badge. It read, "Good day, my name is Kathrine." His smile broadened. He wondered if she was busy later that night.

The smile Kathrine had been wearing all afternoon became more warm and sincere. Apparently, she liked him, too. "If you'd like, I can call you a cabbie from here. It would save you a trip," she said, motioning to a communications panel.

Suddenly realizing his fianceé was coming to pick him up was like a slap on the face. His smile vanished. Reluctantly, he admitted, "No thanks. Someone's coming to pick me up."

Her smile dimished a little. "Well, then... if you need anything, just let me know, and... welcome home." A beeping sound from her console informed her that yet another person was getting ready to come across.

"Thanks," he replied half-heartedly. Slowly, he walked off towards the northern entrance. That's where SHE'LL be waiting, he thought to himself. The events of the past several days had drawn him to the conclusion that he was too young to be nailed down to one person. He still had a life to live, and as soon as he got married, that would be over. She would want children...she always did. Then...that really WOULD be the end of his life. What WAS he thinking? He was only twenty-eight. No, the engagement was definately over, but he didn't know how to tell Corina. She would be shattered... and it wasn't like he didn't care about her.

His mind clogged with 'what if' scenarios for telling her he was breaking off the engagement, he didn't even realize he had walked out of the center. Apparently, the weathernet had programmed a perfect day in Brisbane. Although it was almost December, the sun was shining and the temperature was a cool fifty-eight degrees. In front of him was an indention in the road, meant to pick up and drop off people. After that was a large, multi-lane, multi-row highway full of personal transports, public transports, and cabs. The sound of humming electricity, the dull rumble of engines firing, the honking of horns, and the voices of pedestrians filled the air. In the middle of that was the Australian MagLev, the monorail that ran all throughout the Austrailian island as well as Tazmania.

Tom was starting to settle on ways of breaking the news to Corina when he heard a honk. As he looked to his right, he saw her yellow transport coming towads him, her fair-skinned face beaming. The engine covers were still removed from the back. He had removed them a few weeks before he left to prevent them from shorting out. The transport came to a stop in front of him and the passenger door raised. "G'day, cutie!" Her full face smiled. "Goin' my way, stranger?" She chuckled.

He smiled and looked her over. She was certainly a full-figured woman... not necessarily overweight, but she would never be described as petite. Her mother had referred to her as having 'perfect birthing hips'. That thought made him shudder. Her medium length, brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. Her blue jean vest covered a light green tee shirt. The legs of her brown pants were folded over her boots. Her smile just lit up the place. "Depends," he answered playfully, "where ya headed?"

Corina cocked her head. Her features became softer. "I know of this little shack out by Gold Creek with some beef barbeque that's been slow-cooking all afternoon. Can I interest you in a lift?"

Tom eagerly climbed in. "Beef barbeque? Why didn't ya say so?" She grabbed his face as he sat down. Her kiss was sweet, loving and warm. Her's was a face he wouldn't mind waking up to every morning. To be going home and having his favorite meal waiting for him was a very comforting feeling, too; especially after what he had been through. "I missed you, Sugar." He said finally. Perhaps marriage wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Well," she replied sweetly, "you don't have to miss me any more." She looked at the passenger door. "Mind your hands and feet." Tom pulled his leg in as the door closed. "Let's get out of here," she said. 


	5. Chapter 5

After the glittering lights faded, T'Nia found herself on a small transporter pad with the transporter console unmanned. As she looked around, she could tell she was in the main greeting room of the Vulcan Consulate Building in Tuscon, Arizona. The rich, dark color of the aged oak panel interior was actually quite foreign to the building materials on Vulcan. Still, it seemed rather appropriate. Reproductions of famous vulcan paintings adorned the large room. Vaulted windows provided ample daylight to come through. Opposite the transporter pad was the administrative desk. To her right was a pair of large doors leading to the outside. Between her and the desk was a large, round fireplace with overstuffed leather chairs and a pair of matching leather couches. Although the building was a gift from humans and designed by humans, it was actually quite vulcan. She gathered her two small bags of personal belongings and headed towards the desk.

She walked past a middle aged vulcan seated in a chair and reading something on a PADD. He nodded to her as she walked past. She returned the nod and continued towards the desk. She had been here only once before. T'Nia had stayed here for three days prior to starting her freshman year at the Academy while they processed all her information. As she approached the desk, the young woman behind it regarded her long hair with a mildly raised eyebrow. The receptionist's hair was traditional, logical, and short. "Peace and long life, T'Nia. We have been expecting you. Please register on the display." She motioned to a small panel attached to the desk which she turned around to face T'Nia as she sat.

"Thank you," T'Nia replied cooly as she tapped out her name, purpose, and duration of stay.

"You will be staying in room three." The receptionist pointed to a large, sweeping staircase opposite the main doors. "Top of the stairs, turn to the right, third door down."

"I am familiar with the building, thank you." She replied.

"Since you have apparently been away from vulcan dealings for awhile, may I suggest one of the PADDs on the entryway table? It is a human publication, the Vulcan Chronicles. They try to be objective and logical, but rarily succeed. However, it is a good source of information regarding our homeworld... except for GNN."

T'Nia took exception to the 'apparently been away from vulcan dealings' line. "I am also familiar with the publication." she said quickly. She finished her travel agenda with a loud tap against the panel.

"I see," the receptionist said slowly. "If you require anything during day, you may contact me. We also have a night receptionist should you require anything after normal business hours." With that, the receptionist went back to reading something on her viewscreen.

T'Nia stood up, grabbed her things, and headed to her room. She approached the third door on the right and placed her hand against the door panel. After a quick scan, if blinked green. The oaken door unlocked and opened with a slight creak. The inside of the room was quite reminiscent of a hotel room with a small dining area. Immediately to her right was a closet. Directly before her was a large bed. To her left was a video screen in the wall. Under the viewscreen was a dresser. Past the bed was a small dining area. To the right of the dining area was a small kitchenette. The room to the left was a bathroom. The room to the right was a private meditation room with a new set of candles.

Satisfied with the room, she placed her bags on the bed. "Computer," she started, turning towards the video screen. "begin recording." She paused, thinking through what to say to her betrothed. Despite having been engaged to him all her life, she had only met him twice. Most of their communications were just like this one; subspace recordings. That made conversations difficult. Taking a deep breath, she left her message. "Sekir, I trust this message will find you well. I wanted to inform you that I have arrived at the Vulcan Consulate on Earth safely. I shall be here for one earth week before participating in the ceremony. From what I'm told, once the ceremony is complete, we shall complete repairs and construction of the Warlord. I am certain I shall contact you before I depart. Peace and long life, my betrothed. Computer, end recording. Send this recording to Sekir in the Nasha quadrant of the Eliph province of Vulcan."

After a few moments, the computer replied, "Your message has been sent."

Absently, she replied, "Thank you," and walked to the window in the dining area. She opened the window and looked up and down East Broadway Boulevard. As her eyes adjusted to the desert sun, she took note of the many business signs written in both vulcan and terran that dotted the road. The vulcan consulate building was moved from San Francisco to Tucson over twenty years ago. It was chosen as the site for the embassy because of its arid weather and high elevation, which more closely resembled the vulcan environment. T'Nia was quite satisfied to see how the local residents had taken to their 'new neighbors' so hospitably. Perhaps that was why she preferred the company of humans. They were accomodating. The Terran embassy on Vulcan didn't receive nearly this kind of consideration. It was the vulcan mindset that visitors should adapt to their way of thinking and living. She attributed that to the vulcan culture's rigidity. Humans, on the other hand, were quite flexible and adaptable, as was evidenced by a restaurant just down the street that specialized in 'vulcan cuisine'. She would have to visit that establishment, but for now, she was content so head off to the meditation room for awhile. 


	6. Chapter 6

Throughout all of the history of the United Kingdom, the only constant was rain. Now, despite the Weathernet, it was STILL rainy. Tyler cursed under his breath as he stared out a rain-soaked front window at the Heathrow Transport Hub. He waited by the front doors of the noisy building waiting for his mother to pick him up. Being early afternoon, his father would have just started work at the pub. He watched the people and transports zip past the crowded streets and walkways. Unlike newer cities, London never had the ability to 'grow' with new technologies, so as the population grew, the roadways shrank. The transports only had two lanes to drive in, but they were stacked ten high. Looking out the window, the memories of his adventures rapidly became distant. The reality of home rushed to the front of his mind. He was anxious to see his family... well most of his family. Being the oldest of three, it had always been assumed he would carry on the family pub as it had been for four generations.

Eventually, he recognized the beat up, brown family transport that had carried his family around for as long as he could remember. It could hold five comfortably and it had a cargo bin in the back to carry all the 'what-nots' his family deemed necessary to move. It was a little underpowered, but as his father always used to say, "Only replace what needs replacing." Tyler ran out into the rain and climbed into the opening passenger door. Once the door closed, his mother locked the engine and gave her son a big hug. She bathed him in kisses. "M'precious boy! You have no idea how worried I was about you! Oh, come here!" She hugged him tightly again. "You could have been killed out there jaunting about the stars like that. You aren't still hurt, are ya? Everything's fine?" She started feeling his arms and neck.

He finally free of his mother's grasp, and settled into the seat. "Mum...I'm fine. Everything turned out fine. The doctor's a whiz. I'm the picture of health."

His mother finally restarted the engine and merged into traffic. "Well," she said finally, "I hope ya finally got all this starship business out of your system. Your father was right, ya know. Ya should have just stayed with the family business. It provides an important service, too... and ya don't have to worry about getting blasted to pieces."

This was a discussion he had with his parents a hundred times before. It got especially bad just before he went into the Academy. "Mum, I already told you... I'm getting an award for bravery! What we did really made a difference. I did something REALLY important. Why can't ya be happy for me?"

"It's because we let ya read all those adventure stories when ya were young," she continued, apparently oblivious to Tyler's question.

"Oh, good grief. Let's not start this again. I was hoping we wouldn't bring this up again. I thought you'd see the work I was doing and be proud of me!"

Mrs. Bristol maneuvered the transport onto West M6 and headed for West Dreyton. "Sweetie," she said having finally calmed down. "You're me oldest... me first baby. Of course I'm proud of you. But you didn't have to join Starfleet for that. I would have been proud of you as a pub owner, too."

"Mum," he insisted. "We've already been THROUGH this at least a dozen times. I don't WANT to run a bar. Let Mark do it. He's still working for Dad, isn't he?"

"Sweetie, we both know your brother. He can't handle responsibility of any kind. It's a chore just to get him to wash his clothes and he's almost nineteen. The only reason why your father keeps him employed is because no one else will. Speaking of your father, would ya like me to stop by the Bayberry so you can see him?"

Tyler thought a moment. Having this discussion with another parent wasn't high on his priority list. "Na," he replied, "I'll see him tomorrow morning, when he gets home."

Her face softened. "I wish the two of you would talk to each other. Ye've got his stubbornness, ya know. Yer both hard as a brick when ye think yer right." Her voice slowed. "We won't be here forever, ya know... yer Dad and me."

Tyler's voice became indignant. "He's the one who practically kicked me out of the family because I wouldn't take over his precious bar! It's not my fault we don't talk. Part of talking is listening... and he doesn't do that worth a pip!"

"Neither of ya do," she said softly. "Perhaps ya can both change that before ya leave."

"Well, maybe," he replied, his voice toning down. "But he'll have to start it. I'm not a baby any more. I'm the main helmsman of the most powerful ship in the history of Starfleet." His self-importance faded within moments. He looked down at the stained flooring and considered his words. He hadn't meant it that way, but he wasn't about to take them back, either.

She shot him a stern glance. "Ya may have a fancy title now, but you'll always be our son."

He caught her stern look and replied with one of his own. "I may be your son, but I'm not your baby any more." He turned and stared blankly forward at the rain hitting the front window. 


	7. Chapter 7

After a number of communications around the San Francisco Bay area, Dorrin finally found a hotel with an available suite. Since Bajor wasn't even close to the Warlord's flight path to Earth, and a transport to Bajor would take almost a week to get there, Dorrin decided to stay in the city of the birthplace of the Federation. The decision to go to San Francisco was the easy part. Finding an available hotel room was a different story entirely. It had taken him nearly an entire hour to find a hotel suitable for him that had available rooms. In the end, Grand Elegance Hotel had a suite available. After pulling a few strings with some 'friends' from the Starfleet Medical Corps, he was in.

Doctor Rass stepped off the transporter pad in the middle of the registration area of the hotel. Everything about the hotel was opulant in design. Large, sweeping archways lined the entrance area. The furnishings and floor were marbled granite on aged wood. Soft, classical music played in the background. "I must remember to send Doctor Essris a fruit basket for this." He thought. A video screen displaying the names and faces of the various foreign dignitaries and celebrities who have stayed there was recessed in the wall next to the registration desk.

The red and gold uniformed clerk greeted him as he approached the desk. "Good evening, Doctor Rass. Welcome to the Grand Elegance." He produced a PADD with a marking device from behind the counter and handed it to Dorrin. "If you'll please fill out the registration information, I will secure your room access."

Dorrin looked over the information on the PADD. "My Starfleet records have all this information. Why don't you just use that?"

The desk clerk raised an eyebrow. "Sir... military records are off limits to civilian institutions... or didn't you know that?" The clerk's voice was a bit snide.

Dorrin quickly looked at the nametag of this barely-past-his-teens whelp. "Well, Brian," he began with a simliar tone, "where I'm from, those sort of records are public knowledge. Bajorans have nothing to hide."

"If you had visited Earth before, this information WOULD be public knowledge, Sir." Brian replied with a Cheshire catlike grin.

"I see." The doctor quickly snatched up the PADD and began looking over the dozens of questions. "You've GOT to be kidding me."

"It's standard documentation, Doctor." Another patron approached behind Dorrin. "Doctor, if you'll please step aside. I have another customer."

"Hrmph." Dorrin took the PADD and stylus and headed over to a couch near the entry way. For over twenty minutes, Dorrin answered every question imaginable regarding his race, his physical appearance, his genetic predispositions, lineage... in his mind they may have been asking about his relations with famous people, too. Eventually, he returned it to the desk. The clerk greeted him again with a mildly sarcastic smile. "Here... I suppose you need a blood sample, too."

The clerk presented a small tablet with a glowing blue panel. "No, Sir." he replied with a twinkle. "I just need your handprint for the door."

"Same thing." Dorrin chided. "Don't you people believe in keys? What happens if the power goes out?" He pressed his hand against the panel. The blue light momentarily glowed more brightly, then went back to its normal intensity with a beep.

The clerk chuckled. "Sir... we haven't had a power outage in almost a century. Besides, if the power did go out, you wouldn't be able to get in the front door, either." He put the hand template back under the desk. "Thank you. Your room is twenty-two, eleven, twenty-second floor. Enjoy your stay." The clerk went back to his business.

"Thank you," Dorrin muttered. He headed for the elevator, glad to finally be through with that kid. The elevator whisked him to the twenty-second floor. He pressed his hand to the panel next to room 2211. It flashed green and the white-washed wooden door swung open. He was astonished to see the inside. It was larger than his housing edition growing up... and that was just the main living room. Across from the entrance was an elegant pair of glass sliding doors that led to a generous balcony. Dorrin could see the crisp night sky from the door. He stepped down three steps as he entered the living room. An oversized video screen adorned the wall on the left. Overstuffed white leather couches, a pair of leather chairs, and a round coffee table furnished the living room proper. As he walked past to get to the balcony, he saw a book on the coffee table titled "What to do When You're in San Francisco." It was the size of a small novel.

Interested, he stopped to pick up the book. As he began thumbing through the book, broken down by major categories like museums, theater, music, sight seeing, etc., it dawned on him... "How am I ever going to fit all this in a week?" He then flipped to a section titled "Night Life". As he flipped through that section, his eyes widened and a smile crossed his lips. "By the prophets...I think I just found a starting point." 


	8. Chapter 8

Elaine couldn't believe her eyes. Once the sparkling lights of the transporter beam faded, she found herself at the Montreal Transit Hub. Although she had used the Hub dozens of times in her life, she seemed to appreciate it more this time. The beautifully recreated train station still had the classic look and feel of the mid nineteenth century. Large, dark, wooden columns rose up to arched ceiling beams. The old-style, gridded window panes near the ceiling displayed the evening stars like giant paintings. The intricate tilework on the floor was only occasionally interrupted by carpeted walkways. She could see the railway museum off her left shoulder. The full-sized replica of the Dorchester, Canada's first public railway locomotive, could seen just past it. For the sake of nostalgia, some of the Hub's main exits still led to nonfunctional train sections that still sat upon sections of actual track. Despite the late hour, it was still teaming with people. The transporter operator waved her on as the line of outgoing travellers grew behind him.

Gingerly, she stepped off the large, circular transporter pad and took a deep breath. She actually felt nervous; partly afraid this was a dream and she'd wake up back in that horrible firefight with the Reman warship. The image of that giant, black monster of a ship had haunted her dreams lately. She shook the image from her mind and actively tried to fill it with the image before her. The smell of roasted cashews blessed her nose and she breathed in deeply. Perhaps she could put those memories behind her and enjoy her time with her parents and friends. Eagerly, she ran outside to take in the late-Autumn Montreal evening.

Elaine passed the open front doors and found herself at the busy Papineau Avenue. Transports of all shapes and sizes flew past. A few of public transports would occasionally stop in front of the Hub to pick up or drop off passengers. Between the cold air and the bare trees lining the street, it was easy to tell the time of year. She also found herself without a coat and getting rather cold. She quickly flagged down a taxi. A bulbous, yellow transport quickly pulled over and the back door slowly raised.

As she climbed in, the overweight driver turned to look to her with a mock-critical eye. With a thick French accent he asked, "Don't tell me, mon ami, you wish to go to a store and get a coat, oui?"

The door closed as she sat down with a smile. Perhaps a coat would be wise, but no. She really needed company, preferrably the company of her friends. She knew where they would be. "No thank you. I feel like enjoying the weather for now. Do you know where the Nightlight Dance Club is?"

"I do." He nodded.

"Then, please take me there." She said with a smile. "A little dancing ought to warm me up just nicely." For as long as she could remember, she loved to sing and dance. If it weren't for the pragmatism of her parents, she would never have joined Starfleet Academy and taken a shot at theater. Hopefully, she could catch up with her school friends. Before she left for the Academy, they always hung out at the Nightlight on Friday and Saturday nights. A few drinks, a few unhealthy deep-fried appetizers, and a few friends would be just what she needed to forget some of these memories. Although syntholol was the preferred drink in most public gathering establishments, there were a precious few that still carried the old-style beverages. The Nightlight was just such an establishment.

"As you wish, my dear," the driver replied. With a jolt, the taxi was off for downtown Montreal.

The twenty-six year old let the inside of the taxi warm her as it headed towards the lights of downtown. She suddenly remembered that although she was wearing civilian clothing, she still had her hair in a bun. Carelessly, she pulled out the pins and shook her head, letting her long, blonde, wavy hair fall down to her shoulders. "This time," she thought to herself, "I'm going to stay in control and I'm NOT going to do something stupid." She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to contact her parents once she was planetside. 


	9. Chapter 9

Tony Moreaux's first sight, once the sparkling of the transporter beam had faded, was of a large man waving him and three others off the large, rectangular transporter pad. As he stepped down with the others, the guard said, "Please move along, others are waiting." As he rotated his right arm indicating the exit point, he pointed with his left hand. "Any cargo or luggage you have is on the cargo pad to your right. Thank you." He seemed thoroughly bored... apparently he had made that statement at least ten thousand times already today. The O'Hare Transit Center was a massive structure, almost twice the size as the original airport. From where he was standing, he could see the 'History of Travel' exhibit in the west wing. Being almost ten o'clock at night, the crowd was actually tolerable. 

Tony had been through a lot these past couple of weeks. It reminded him of his tour aboard the USS Varjhey during the Dominion War. That underpowered antique had been little more than target practice to the Dominion. He could remember at least three times when that ship should have gone up in flames, yet somehow didn't. It almost made him believe in God. Tony was forced to come to grips with his mortality during that war. It wasn't that he had gotten used to the notion of not coming home, it just didn't consume his thoughts. He had made the conscious decision to enjoy life while he could. He was twenty-nine after all, and wasn't getting any younger.

His debarkation line met up with three other lines from other transporter pads. Even though he didn't have any luggage, Tony was content to stand in line patiently until he saw a familiar face waiting for him at the end. "Ricky!" he yelled over the noise of the crowd. Tony began shoving his way past the line. Most of the people responded to his enthusiasm by shoving him back or muttering an insult under their breath. He didn't care. His little brother was waiting for him.

Rick Moreaux heard his big brother's voice and started looking for him. As Tony shoved his way forward, Rick saw his older brother. "Tony!" He yelled back. He moved as close as he could to the exit of the 'Arrivals' terminal. 

Tony hit a block of people near the exit to the main concourse. He hopped over the glowing fiberope keeping the line organized and ran to his brother. They gave each other a tight hug. "Heya, slacker!" Tony yelled. He grabbed his brother into a half-nelson and messed his brother's already messed up brown hair.

Rick responded by giving his brother an elbow in the stomach. "Hey yourself, ya hack!" he replied with a smile. 

Tony stumbled back from the hit and ran into a couple coming out of the exit. "Sorry." He offered half-heartidly. Dirty looks from the couple eluded to their willingless to accept his apology. 

The couple continued on while Rick ran his fingers through his hair. Breathing heavy from the mock wrestling match in the middle of O'Hare, he asked, "So, you wanna head back to the apartment, or grab something to eat first?"

Tony stood up, rubbing his stomach. "How about both? Let's get in your transport and get a hold of Angelo's and pick up a pizza on the way home."

"Ready to hit the hard stuff already, huh?" Ricky asked, laughing. "Sounds like a plan." He motioned towards the front doors. "I parked across the street. Let's burn." The two put their arms around each other and headed towards the door. 


	10. Chapter 10

Stephen and Box arrived at the northern gate of the Houston Transportation Center with the typical flurry of twinkling lights. The normally preoccupied visitors and staff around the oversized transporter pad suddenly stopped and stared at the large, crystalline spider. For all the aliens that visited Earth, the Hamalki were not among them. The somewhat reclusive spider race preferred to stay on Hamal and let others come to them. This was, in Box's opinion, probably the first time anyone in the Houston area had seen someone of his species. He did was he had been taught to do when greeting humanoids for the first time, he smiled. His oversized, toothy maw apparently had the opposite of its intended effect; people seemed even more unnerved than before.

Box felt a thump on one of his legs. His leftmost two eyes could tell it was Stephen. "Come on, Box." Stephen said. "Let's get moving." Stephen's look was of mild amusement. Apparently, he was expecting this kind of reaction.

As they left the transporter pad labelled 'Arrivals', they passed a large, hovering video display with the words "Welcome to Houston, Texas, USA, Earth" above it in glowing letters. On the screen itself was a repeating montage of sights and places to visit along with their locations. Eventually, the gawkers went back to their business. The unlikely pair of friends made their way through the giant, star-shaped building to the center. Each point of the star contained a number of gates, some for spaceships capable of terrestrial landing, others for transporters, and others for ground-based vehicles. Occasional announcments for arrivals or departures could be heard overhead, interrupting the classic country music playing in the background. Dangling from the metal rafters far overhead were the Texas state flag, the American national flag, and the Terran unity flag.

Box struggled to allow his eyes to take it all in. Even though he had eight eyes, there was just so much to take in, and they hadn't even left the building yet. Although the center was crowded, people went out of their way to make room for the large spider creature. He waved and nodded his large, bulbous head to people as he passed them, and was occasionally thrilled by a similar gesture from the passer-by. "Hhhhhthis place is magnificent." Box finally said.

"This place?" Stephen questioned. For a moment, he was going to downplay the facility. After all, it was only transport hub. He considered the place from his friend's point of view, however. "I suppose it is." Stephen looked around. "I'm looking for something specific, though." Although he had been to this terminal a couple of times before, he could never remember where the restaurant was. He spotted it near the center of the building. "There it is!" He grabbed Box's front left leg. "Come on." He picked up the pace, nearly dragging the spider with him.

"Hhhhhhfor only having two legs, you humans deceptively fast." Box added. "Hhhhhwhere are we going?"

"We're getting some beef barbeque. Can't you smell it? It's right over there." Kirk pointed to a free standing kiosk about fifty feet ahead of them. It had the words "Billy's BBQ Heaven" in glowing letters above the awning.

"Hhhhhhi don't have a nose." Box replied.

"Don't worry," Stephen said as they approached the back of the line. "You can taste. We'll get a couple of barbeque sandwiches and some chili fries. You'll love it. It'll put hair on your chest." He added with a smile.

"Hhhhhi don't have a chest." Box replied. "Hhhhhi don't have hair, either."

"Don't be difficult." Kirk replied flatly. "It's just a figure of speach." Box responded by shaking and making his windchime-like laugh. A few people in line ahead of them decided to eat elsewhere.

As they stood patiently in line, a family walked past them, apparently heading to one of the northern gates. They had a little girl, no more than nine years old. Her pigtails waved back and forth as she skipped next to her father, who was carrying a suitcase in one hand. The parents stopped cold at the sight of the glassy spider. The little girl, fascinated, broke her fathers grip and ran at Box. "Honey, no!" the mother yelled. It was too late. The girl had come to a stop right in front of Box and tapped his third right leg.

"Wow... is it alive?" the girl asked Stephen.

The spider sucked air into a pouch, then pushed the air back out to form words. "Hhhhhyes, I am." Box smiled with a mouth that was used only for digestion. 

The girl jumped a bit as he spoke. "Cool!" she replied, still feeling his leg. "Can I have one?" She asked innocently.

"Hhhhhi am not a pet. I am a Starfleet officer." Box stood a little straighter as he mentioned his title. The parents stood dumbfounded.

Stephen kneeled down to look the girl in the eye. He smiled warmly. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Christine," she replied shyly.

"Christine," Kirk started with an official sounding voice, "I'd like you to meet Box. He's our chief mechanic.

Box extended a leg and reformed the end from a walking pad to a three fingered digit. "Hhhhha pleasure to meet you, Christine."

She shook his leg excessively. "Hi!" He shook and chimed as he shook her hand back. "You feel funny." She said with a smile.

Kirk stood up and looked at the parents. "He really is a Starfleet officer... one of the best in the business."

The mother was the first to reply. "I'm sorry." She said to Box. "You just... caught us a little off guard." Other people in the area were suddenly not quite so afraid to get a little closer to the menacing creature, now turned Starfleet officer.

"Hhhhhthat's alright." Box replied. "Hhhhhi'm used to it. Many humans have arachnophobia."

"Can you take a picture with me?" Christine asked.

Box leaned in a little closer to the girl. "Hhhhhcan I have my leg back?" He asked, a smile across his face.

"Yeah," she answered, letting go of his leg.

"Hhhhhthen, I will take a picture with you," he replied.

Stephen leaned in closer to his friend. "Wow, you're here for ten minutes and people are already wanting your picture." He whispered with a smirk.

"Hhhhhhi may need an agent," Box replied. 


	11. Chapter 11

Tuesday night had come too quickly for some and not quickly enough for others. However, as the group had agreed before going their separate ways, most had already met at Wu's China House in Chinatown, San Francisco. Although somewhat modernized, Chinatown still had a look and smell all its own. It was exotic and almost hypnotic. Stephen Kirk, Box, Tony Moreau, T'Nia, Rass Dorrin, and Elaine Davies were already seated in the back room of the small restaurant. Tucked away, just off of Kearny Street, it certainly looked nondescript in appearance, but was quite well known to cadets. The tables in the front were small, the stools rickety and the music was still broadcast over old style magnetic speakers. The air was full of pungent smoke billowing from the double doors to the kitchen that never closed properly. It even had a little cash register on the counter by the door that hadn't been used in at least two centuries.

In the back room, the group was seated in two opposing rows, created by stringing two rectangular tables together. Small, ceramic lanterns lined the middle of the tables with small candles in each. Although they were still waiting for two others, Charlie Wu, great-great grandson of the founder of the restaurant, had already put plates of fried wontons, plates of small eggrolls, and bowls of egg drop soup on the table. The conversations were already underway.

Tony had been disappointed early on. He had been hoping to spend more time with Elaine. She had politely refused to meet him in Chicago for a tour of Navy Pier. Now, she had hardly said anything to him at all. Of course, she hadn't said much to anybody else, either. He had been hoping they had started something special. Perhaps he had read too much into their talks. Or, maybe he was reading too much into her actions now.

"I told you to make sure you hit a ceiling joist." Stephen sounded a little annoyed.

"Hhhhhi thought I did," Box pleaded. The rest of the group was already laughing. Even Elaine cracked a smile.

"Anyway," Kirk continued with a smile, "Mr. Homesick here decides to spin himself a bed to hang from and pulled down at least four ceiling tiles. My landlord was less than thrilled."

Just then, Charlie Wu's petite wife opened the curtain to the back room and ushered in a yawning Tyler Bristol. "Thank you." He said through his yawn.

The group greeted him with a cheer. Stephen was the first to speak. "Have a seat, Tyler. Wake up, Ensign. The night is still young!" Kirk knew exactly why Tyler was so tired.

Tyler sat down with a thud. "For you it's early in the night. For me, it's four in the bloody morning!" The group laughed again as Tom patted him on the back.

"Here," Stephen said, shoving a plate of wontons in front of him. "Have a wonton. You'll feel better." Unknown to him, they were spiced wontons. 

He took a bite, and within moments, his mouth was on fire. "Bloody hell!" He screamed as he frantically looked for something to drink. A couple of his so-called 'friends' pointed him to a pitcher on a small, round table near the kitchen door. He dashed over to it and drank liberally. Thankfully, it was water. "Dear god," he finally said.

"But," Kirk replied through laughter, "You ARE awake now."

Tyler shook his head, filled a glass with water, and headed back to his overturned chair. Although he was feigning surprise and offense, secretly, he was thrilled be part of the 'in crowd.' Now that the fire in his mouth was out, he was able to actually taste what he ate. "Actually," he admitted, "that was pretty good." He sat down and grabbed another wonton.

"Some people never learn." Doctor Rass commented as he shook his head.

T'Nia could hold her curiosity no longer. "Box," she started slowly, "may I ask why you're wearing a cowboy hat?"

Box stood up straighter and angled his hat with one of his legs. "Hhhhhi got it at a rodeo Steve and I went to Sunday afternoon." He created three digits with his leg, took the hat off, flipped it, then put it back on his head. "Hhhhhi learned that from one of the cowboys there."

The group chuckled. "It's you, Box...it's definately you." Tony said with a smile.

"My favorite part of the day was when one of the riders asked Box if he was one of the events." The group laughed again. Box just smiled and chimed.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tom yelled as he burst through the curtain. "I had no idea how busy the San Francisco Public Transporter Facility would be. I was stuck for over a half hour in Maui waiting for an open lane to get here." He sat down at the only other open seat at the table.

Bristol piped up, "You mean you were in Maui and you still came here?"

"I gotta admit," he said, grabbing a few eggrolls and putting them on his plate. "There were some fine Sheilas there. I had a hard time leaving. Their transporter center is right off the beach." He smiled broadly.

"I thought you were engaged." T'Nia stated.

"Hey, women are like fine works of art. Just because you have one at home doesn't mean you can't admire them anywhere else." He elbowed Tony who smiled and elbowed back.

"I have a whole new appreciation for you, Mister Kelly." Tony replied.

T'Nia rolled her eyes and attempted to change the subject before the 'man-fest' got any worse. "So, Doctor, how are you enjoying your first visit to Earth?"

Doctor Rass looked genuinely frazzled. "There's just so much. I mean, Terran culture is so diverse. I just don't know how I can fit it all in. I have this schedule I created with subtasks broken out by geographic location and approximate time to complete..." He pulled out a PADD from his jacket and turned it on with his thumb. "...but because there's no way to factor in time delay for other tourists, I'm already behind schedule by two major bullet points." He scrolled down his self-titled 'must see' list to show two items in red.

Stephen looked over at the PADD. "Good grief, Doctor. You have your entire day broken down into fifteen minute increments. You even have a time limit on your showers." He sat back, enjoying this opportunity to get to know everyone. "That's what I can anal."

The doctor scoffed at him. "It's what I call efficiency, Commander. I had estimated that I would hit eighty-six percent of the city's main attractions before our vacation was up." He put his PADD back under his jacket.

"Well, doctor," T'Nia started, "I for one applaud your organizational efforts." She nodded her approval.

Tony interjected. "You know you need to worry when a Vulcan applauds your vacation planning skills." The group laughed again. T'Nia merely raised an eyebrow and gave her patented 'Hmmph'.

Two waitresses brought out more pitchers of tea and water as well as some large bowls of rice, pork chop suey, Kung Pao Chicken, and steamed vegetables. The aromas were heavenly. Dorrin had to admit, although he had never had 'Chinese' before, this was must tastier than anything he had ever had on Bajor or Delta IV, which was where he received the majority of his medical training. He watched the others pile rice on their plate and follow it with one or more of the other dishes. Eagerly, he followed their example. Dorrin had been invited to Earth many times for medical conferences, but declined. From what little he had experienced of Earth so far, he wouldn't be declining any more any time soon.

With the dining experience fully underway, Kirk turned to the young helmsman. "So, Tyler... tell me about yourself. What have you been up to since you got back?"

Tyler considered his response for a moment. "Well, there's not much to tell, actually. I'm the oldest of four. Me Mum says I have an overactive imagination." He smiled with that one. "Oh! if you can, catch Sportworld 4 Friday afternoon. I've entered an amateur hyperbike tournament in Belgium. It starts at, like, eight in the morning there, so it would be on at, like, eleven at night on Thursday here." He nodded with a big smile, having something interesting to say.

The group was sincerely impressed. "Do you like to race hyperbikes?" Kirk asked. No wonder this kid was a natural at the helm... he was a speed freak.

"Yeah," Bristol replied. "I mean, I don't do it professionally or nothin'. Me Mum wishes I did, though." His expression turned serious recalling their conversation yesterday, when he broke the news of the tournament to his mother.

Tom piped up. "You alright, mate?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Tyler tried to cheer himself. "It's just that, well, Mum actually would prefer me racing bikes instead of being in a starship. There's less risk. Actually, Dad wants me to take over running the pub." He offered a weak smile.

"And what do YOU want?" Tony asked, holding a forkfull of rice. 


	12. Chapter 12

Bristol's eyes became momenarily distant. "I've had to give that a lot of thought lately." After the blowup he had with his father Monday, he ran off and spent the day sitting beside a brook just outside the city skipping rocks. He was so desperate to clear his head that he actually didn't mind when it rained on him AGAIN. He knew what his Mom wanted, to be safe. he knew what his Dad wanted, to continue the family tradition. Tyler spent his adolescence just wanting to get out of West Dreyton. Tyler was there all afternoon considering his family.

The events of the past couple of weeks had forced him to re-evaluate his relationships with his family. Tyler had hoped to make peace with his father while he was home, but he realized that would never happen until he 'gave up these silly notions of being some kind of space hero'. They had no idea how close Earth had come to being destroyed... more than once. Tyler finally understood the true importance of being a part of something greater than himself. Even if his parents never understood, even if his parents never approved, he would be out there... for himself, for them, for everyone. He looked back at Tony with eyes that belied his age. "Warlord is where I was meant to be." He raised his glass.

Tony nodded approval. "I'll drink to that. To the Warlord!" He raised his glass as well.

"To the lives that were lost and the lives that were saved." Stephen added as he raised his glass.

"To a crew so talented, you truly deserve to have me aboard!" Dorrin added with a smile. He raised his glass, too. Everyone laughed.

"To new friends." Tom added as he lifted his glass.

"Hhhhhto new family." Box corrected. 

"I agree. To new family." T'Nia added. Everyone nodded agreement.

Elaine just nodded as she raised her glass. Her emotions had been so conflicted these past several days. She had just gotten used to the mission Warlord had been built for when she got home. Then, she met up with her friends. Earth was a safe place. Her friends were safe to be around. When she was with them, her life seemed normal. She had even considered requesting a transfer to UFP Headquarters. She had been approached for a translator postion a year ago, but turned it down. She had been rethinking that decision as everything had gone back to comfortable.

Yet, even with all the comforts of home came all the temptations. She had too much to drink her first night back. She even met a guy who she thought was nice. Elaine let her guard down again... even though she promised herself she wouldn't do anything stupid... then last night happened. Why did she keep falling for the wrong guys? It had cost her her last assignment. It had cost her first choice of assignment after graduation. Now, she was sitting across from another seemingly nice guy. Elaine was so confused, so conflicted. The decision almost seemed cut-and-dry. She could apply for a transfer and stay here. Something about that choice, however, seemed so defeatist, so cowardly. She decided to quietly eat her food and hope no one engaged her in any real conversation beyond the 'what have you been doing', 'just hanging with friends' Q and A she had when she first arrived.

To her relief, no one did. Tony shot her an occasional glance, but she avoided eye contact as much as possible. The remainder of the evening was spent enjoying three more bowls of food, of which the doctor ate as though he hadn't eaten in days, and finally fortune cookies. Being quite late at night, the group decided to head to their respective homes. Several promised Tyler they'd watch the hyperbike race Friday.

As the group broke for the night, Elaine tried to quietly duck out and head for a taxi. Tony followed her, though. He gently caught her by the shoulder. "Elaine, wait a sec."

Reluctantly, she stopped. Dorrin and Tom walked past them and said 'good night'. "Hi, Tony," she said quietly.

His look was one of concern, a look she wasn't used to seeing from others. "You've been a real wet blanket all night. Are you okay?"

Tyler then exited the restaurant and bid the two good night. They both waved back. Still trying to avoid eye contact, she slowly turned back around to Tony. "I'm fine, Tony. I just have a lot on my mind."

His concern was genuine. He hoped he wasn't what was on her mind. He liked her. They had made a connection back on the Warlord. He had figured they could be friends... maybe more eventually... but definately part of their 'inner circle' of friends. "Would you like to go somewhere and talk about it?" He asked innocently.

Those words were like insults to her. That's what the guy said Monday. "No!" She replied with venom. She took his hand off her shoulder. She would NOT fall for that again. "Look," she said finally, her eyes now locked on his, "you're an okay guy, Tony. I just want to be alone right now. I'm through with relationships for awhile."

He was taken aback. Partly because he hadn't mentioned anything about a relationship... partly because he wanted to. His own defensive personality kicked in at that point. "Who said anything about a relationship?" His own tone became rough. "I was only asking if you wanted to talk. I wasn't asking you to marry me!"

The thought of marrying a fellow officer was even worse than just sleeping with one, although he was kind of cute... especially when his face turned red like that. No, no, NO. "Tony, good night. I'll see you Saturday at the ceremony." She turned and walked away.

"Can't wait." He said half-heartedly. Was it something he said? Maybe he came on too strong on the ship. Maybe it was just emotions being overcooked during a stressful situation. Who knows.

T'Nia, Stephen, and Box had been waiting just inside the restaurant door for their conversation to end. T'Nia was the first to speak. She turned to Stephen with a perplexed look. "Well, this should make for an interesting voyage."

Kirk rolled his eyes as he pushed on the door. "The queen of understatement speaks again." The three walked outside and up to their dejected friend. His eyes showed a mixture hurt and confusion. 

Kirk walked up to him and put his arm around his shoulder. "You're trying to understand women again, aren't you?"

His thoughts now returning to the present, and not reliving possible mistakes in the past, Tony looked at his friend. "Does my head look like it's going to explode again?"

Kirk smiled. "Well, it is starting to swell a bit. You might want to hold your head like this..." Kirk put his hands in front of and just above his ears to mock holding his head together. Tony chuckled.

T'Nia smirked. "With rare exception, I cannot tolerate human women." She turned to Tony. "There are a number of more progressive Vulcan women who have not been pre-arranged. If you wish, I can introduce one to you."

Tony waved his arms. "Please no. I program computers all day long. The last thing I want is to be married to one."

"Your loss." T'Nia said and almost added a smile.

"Hhhhhhperhaps you should simply mate with a sister." Box added with a toothy grin. The four began walking down the street.

Tony grimmaced. "You have SEEN my sister?" 


	13. Chapter 13

The video panel beeped in Stephen's living room informing him that someone wanted to talk. It's annoying repitition drove him out of the bedroom while still buttoning his dress uniform, which he hated. Box, as always, was getting food from the replicator. He pressed the connect button on the video panel. He was greeted with a pleasant surprise. 

The image of Captain Lydia Velasquez filled the screen. She was sitting in an ambulatory chair. Her smile was pleasant and warm. She was wearing civilian clothes and a scarf over her head. From the background, it appeared as though she was on a starship of some kind. Her neurologist was sitting close by. "Good morning, Commander." She said warmly.

"Captain!" Stephen exclaimed. Box came scampering out from the kitchen.

"Hello, Lieutenant Box." she said as he came into the picture.

Reality set in quickly. "Captain, you can see! Thank goodness." His hopes swelled that Lydia would reclaim her position as captain quickly. Perhaps that's why she is on a ship.

"Hhhhhello, Captain." Box replied.

"Yes, Commander I do... sort of. I can see fairly well out of my left eye. My right eye is a bit blurry. The good doctor thinks a few more treatments might improve that. I am also glad to say I have almost fifty percent of my mobility back on my right side."

Kirk looked and felt very much relieved. "Praise the Lord, Captain. That IS good news. I've been keeping your seat warm for you, just as ordered." He said with a wink.

Her smile faded a bit. "I'm proud of you, Commander. You handled yourself and your crew wonderfully."

"I couldn't have done it without you." He responded graciously.

"Commander," she started, "you DID do it without me. You're award today will be well earned. I wish I could be there to see it, but I won't make it in time." Her smile faded completely. "I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that." Her eyes wandered down. She took a deep breath.

Stephen didn't want to hear the words he just heard. "What do you mean, Captain?" He asked slowly... afraid of the answer.

She looked up and stared straight at him. "I mean I'm retiring again, Commander."

His heart sunk. There were precious few people in Starfleet who had shown him any kind of favor. Losing her was like a knife wound to the chest. "But... you could still command... even from a chair..."

"Stephen," her voice was more motherlike than authoritative. "I retired a year ago. They asked me back to help launch the Warlord... and I did, though to a lesser degree than I would have liked. The Starfleet Medical Board has certified me as 'borderline' for returning to active duty. And... to be perfectly honest... I miss my grandchildren. I already informed Starfleet of my intentions, but I wanted you to know before anyone else said anything." She cocked her head and waited for the reality of her statements to set in.

Stephen sat down on his couch with a plop. He had gotten along so well with her. She was like an older version of himself in personality. "Then... I guess there's no way to change your mind?" He asked weakly.

"No, Commander... there isn't." She sighed. Lydia knew his personality well. Her recommendation that he be transferred to the Warlord was a huge shot in his pride. His record had been riddled with minor incidents, but, overall was excellent. Her instincts had proven correct about him, though. Now, though... he'd be forced to fend for himself. Someone else would have to see his potential and not just the criticisms from a few judgementalists.

His mind began replaying their associations. His first meeting with her was over subspace. He was serving as the second officer on the USS Victory when Captain Hearne called him into the prep room. It was there that she and Admiral Leonard first informed him of the new Dreadnaught project. It was there that she informed him that she wanted him as her first officer. It was there that he found out his own captain had recommended him for a promotion. He remembered the first time they met. It was in the docking port of the Warlord. They had to construct a makeshift tunnel to the turbolift because the bottom five levels of the superstructure were still exposed to space. She had given him a surprisingly firm handshake. "We'll certainly miss you, Captain." He said after a long pause.

"Hhhhhhthank you for bringing me aboard." Box added.

"I will certainly miss both of you, too. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better, Box. Stephen spoke very highly of you. It was based on his recommendation that I asked you to be transferred."

"Hhhhhhe is a good friend and worth superior officer."

"Thanks, Box," Kirk replied sincerely. "Do you have any idea who they're getting to replace you?" 

"I've been told they have a short list of candidates... the majority of whom they considered before asking me, so I know you'll be in good hands." Her smile partly returned. "Admiral Leonard said they'll have someone assigned by next week. I'm sure you'll get the official word of this in a day or two."

"Probably." Kirk remarked. "Well, don't lose touch. You went to a lot of trouble to put us all together."

"Absolutely, I will. Expect some kind of communication from me at least once a week. I want to know, first-hand, what the gallant crew of the Warlord has been up to." Her smile widened even more. "And, if you ever find yourself in Mexico or you get a craving for real tamales, stop by and say 'hi.'"

"Will do, Captain." Both Kirk and Box stood at attention and saluted.

Lydia returned the salute as best she could. "Enjoy your ceremony, gentlemen. You've earned it." With that, the video screen faded to black. 


	14. Chapter 14

The Warlord crew stood in stunned silence as Commander Kirk shared the news Captain Velasquez gave him. It put a very somber mood on what was to be a celebratory occasion. Although the award ceremony was to begin in just a few minutes, he wanted them to know before anyone else did. Lydia did that for him, it was the least he could do for them. As he searched for the right words, inspiration came to him again.

"Now, everyone... you need to know that this was Captain Velasquez's decision. She could have returned to duty if she wanted. The physicians had cleared her. She had retired already, though. Although it's okay to be sad at her departure from our crew, we need to be happy for her. She's doing what's best for her. We will go on. Soon, we'll have a new captain, a new ship, and a new mission. Our greatest days are yet to come. So, get to your seats, everyone. Enjoy the award ceremony. Enjoy the party afterwards." He smiled. "Enjoy having Sunday to recover." The crowd of almost one hundred laughed. "And we're back to work as normal on Monday. Dismissed." Everyone but the bridge crew went to their reserved seats in the Great Hall, most now with smiles.

Doctor Rass, T'Nia, Elaine Davies, Tom Kelly, and Tony Moreau stayed with Stephen. They would be on stage with the Enterprise bridge crew to receive the commendations for their respective crews. T'Nia cocked her head as she approached. "I am impressed," she started. "The crew seemed truly inspired. Perhaps you should consider asking for the Captain's seat yourself."

"Bite your tongue," Kirk replied quickly. "I've had enough of that captain's seat to last awhile. Besides, the last thing I need is one more comparison to great-granddad."

T'Nia raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"He was thirty-four when he was promoted to captain." Stephen fidgeted with his collar again.

"I see," T'Nia started. She noticed Stephen's collar clasp had come undone. "You need to stop fidgeting with your collar. You unhooked it." She walked over to him as he struggled to rehook the clasp.

"I hate these stupid formal uniforms. I feel like I'm wearing a dress." Without a mirror, it was proving overly difficult for him to fix the problem. 

T'Nia attempted to hook it for him. "Here, let me help..."

Dismayed that he couldn't fix the problem himself, he attempted to move her hands away and finish the job. "I can do it myself. I'm not a baby, you know."

"You are missing the loop..." she commented, still trying to help and swatting away his hands.

"Well, if you'd stop getting in the way..." Kirk retorted.

The two continued fighting over who would fix the collar. Eventually, it was reattached, though no one could be certain who actually DID it.

"Told you I could get it." Kirk stated with finality.

"Hrmph." T'Nia replied, fixing her hair after the 'altercation'.

Tom leaned over to Tony. "Okay, tell me... are they in love or related?"

Tony looked over. "I have a tough time figuring that one out myself." 

Elaine, having tried to remain distant from the rest of the group, couldn't help but smile. Since Tuesday, she had spent a great deal of time thinking. Regretfully, her 'friends' weren't too helpful when she told them about her problem. Their recommendation was to go out partying again and forget about it for awhile. When Elaine disagreed, they left without her. Up until that point, she had almost convinced herself to attempt a transfer. Her friends' unwillingness to stay with her in a time of trouble confused her even more. Now, having watched this group of friends interact, both on duty and off, she longed for more. That was before this incident. Now, she truly felt guilty for having spurned Tony the way she did.

All their discussions came to a halt as they saw another group of people enter from the far door to the room just behind the stage with them. It was the bridge crew of the Enterprise. Captain Picard entered first, quickly followed by the newly promoted Captain Riker, Deanna Troi, Commander Worf, Liuetenant Commander Geordi LeForge, and Doctor Beverly Crusher. He had gotten to know them quite well shortly after their battles with the Reman warships. Conspicuously absent was their science officer, Commander Data, who perished during the battle.

Kirk felt a conflicting set of feelings towards Captain Picard. His reputation, though slightly tarnished by some incident with the Son'a and Ba'ku, was still legendary. It was an honor to meet and talk with him. On the other hand, he had gotten to spend time with his great-grandfather, who had somehow been spared the 'official' death on the Enterprise B, only to die on Veridian IV just a couple of years ago. Kirk admitted to himself that he was actually jealous of Jean-Luc Picard.

Jean-Luc headed over immediately to the Warlord crew and extended his hand to Stephen. "Well met, Commander."

Stephen shook off his conflicting emotions and grasped Captain Picard's hand. "Hello again, Captain. How have you enjoyed your vacation?"

Picard looked momentarily distant. His mind went back to the week he spent in France visiting his sister-in-law. Regretfully, both his brother and his nephew died in a fire not too long ago... not long enough ago. "It was... bittersweet." Picard finally admitted. He smiled as his thoughts returned to the present. "How have you enjoyed your time off?"

"It's been quite restful," he replied with a smirk, "except for the hole in my living room ceiling."

The two crews mingled behind the stage and bantered about with small talk for quite some time, while the President of the Federation recanted the events around stardate 56844.9. In turn, they each congratulated William Riker on his recent promotion as well as his first command, the USS Titan. Apparently, both Deanna and Will would be stationed on the new, deep exploration vessel. Once the Enterprise had finished with its repairs, it, too, would resume deep space exploration as well.

The crews continued happily talking to one another, until the President's administrative assitant came back hurriedly. He was a small man with a receding hairline. Although he probably wasn't past his forties, the worries of keeping a UFP President organized had aged him far beyond his years. Still, he seemed rather upbeat as he approached the group. "Alright, everyone," he started as he clapped his hands. "It's time for your big moment. Now, let me tell you what's going to happen..." 


	15. Chapter 15

Both of the outer sections had been opened in order to include all partygoers. There must have been well over two thousand. The main floor of the convention center was jammed with a who's-who of the Federation. Dignitaries, royalty, and of course, local politicians mingled with each other, looking for an edge in their respective positions. Occasionally, a few of these socially elite would brush shoulders with the Starfleet officers and crew who were also present. As people entered the gala, their names would appear in large holographic letters above the dance floor for all to see. The music was light, the lights were bright, and everyone walked around in their best faces and outfits.

The large, white room had been subdivided into three areas. The space closest the main doors was reserved for standing chit-chatters. Just to the left of the immense room was a dance floor complete with a thirty piece orchestra that played everything from 1920's swing band music to Klingon opera. To the right was a dining area decked out with padded seats and linens. At least a dozen open bar islands dotted the room. Of course, they were all serving synthohol.

Kirk looked around, trying to catch glimpses of his crew from the edge of the dance area, where he could see everything. He would, on occasion catch a few here and there. Overall, they seemed to be having a good time. His own friends had temporarily deserted him once he started conversing with the Andorian ambassador. Eventually, the Andorian ambassador was called away to another discussion, leaving Kirk free to look around more. Of greatest interest was the tight gathering of officials around a relatively small cluster of Romulans. It had been a surprise to most when a Romulan detachment appeared on stage during the award ceremony. Kirk recognized her immedately as the commander of the IRW Valdore, Donatra. She had led a group of warbirds to assist Enterprise against the Scimitar. In the end, the warbirds had proven no match for the gigantic Reman warship. Donatra and three others had been transported, with the Federation's approval, by the IRW Devoras. People were fawning over her as though she was the latest movie star. 

Obviously, the Romulan presence was a PR move, hoping to minimize the damage Praetor Shinzon had done to the Romulan leadership. However, her mood was unusually light as she gave her presentation of gratitude. According to her speech, the Romulans were genuinely moved by the sacrifices made to save the lives of 'enemies'. By Commander Donatra's testimony, such a noble effort forced the Romulan leadership to reconsider who their enemies really were. In the end, Donatra gave each starship a memorial plaque and something even more useful; a special transponder. With the installation of these transponders, both the Enterprise and the Warlord would be allowed free passage through the Neutral Zone. Her speech concluded with the promise that once 'some minor infrastructure inconsistencies' have been dealt with, the Romulan Empire would be requesting formal diplomatic relations with the Federation. Her hope was that, one day, neither the transponders nor the Neutral Zone would be necessary. That, of course, was met with a standing ovation.

Even though their 'minor infrastructure inconsistencies' were much greater than she led on, it was reassuring to know that what they went through may have been worth it. Stephen allowed himself a few moments to be proud.

"Oh, Commander," came a familiar voice from behind him. The sound made his hair stand up. His muscles instinctively contracted and he winced, almost as in pain.

Stephen turned around to see the shorter-statured Admiral Jason Wellington coming towards him, a glass of champaign in his hands. Although, by appearances, he looked like a handsome man in his late sixties with full, wavy, silver-gray hair and neatly trimmed mustache, his personality was like an aging poison. Wellington had always been one of his greatest, and most vocal, critics. He had voiced opposition to virtually every aspect of his Starfleet career, from his entrance to the Academy to his most recent promotion. His good mood vanished in an instant. "Good afternoon, Admiral," was as much as he could stomach saying.

Admiral Wellington gave him a knowing grin from behind his glass. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Kirk dared to let his guard down for a minute. Was this an actual compliment? "Thank you, Admiral," he replied.

"Yes," the admiral's eyes turned somber. "I hear only eight people were killed under your command. I would have thought the number would have been higher. For you, that should come as a great achievement." His smile almost turned evil as he took a drink.

This had been the most frustrating aspect of Admiral Wellington. Proper chain of command forbid him to say anything back in rebuttal for fear of courtmartial. Instead, as Kirk balled his hand into a fist, he kept silent.

"What's the matter, Commander?" the admiral asked with an obvious look of disdain. "Can't you take a compliment? Is it because you receive so few of them?"

Stephen's eyes met the admiral's with icy calm. "No, Sir." He said quietly.

Admiral Wellington stepped in closer. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Commander." His eyes narrowed. "You and I both know you don't even deserve to be in Starfleet, let alone a commander. You may have ridden grandpa's coattails to get this far, but it's only a matter of time before your incompetance costs a lot more than eight lives. And I'll be watching you like a hawk, Kirk... and when you screw up, I'm gonna fry you like an egg. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Kirk said through gritted teeth.

"Good." Wellington said with a smirk. He raised his glass. "Enjoy the party."

As Stephen watched the admiral walk away. His hands were physically shaking. He closed his eyes and heard all those demons confirming everything the admiral said. The war swelled in his mind once again; the admiral was wrong, the admiral was right. No, not this time...Admiral Leonard was right, Captain Velasquez was right... but the thought of eight dead crewmen caused him doubt. Until these past events, all Wellington could do was attack his school record or his personality. He didn't have tangible evidence of his claims. Now, he did... except... what was that ceremony for, if it wasn't to celebrate a great success?

Without a word to anyone, Stephen ducked out of the party and went home... but... he didn't leave unnoticed. 


	16. Chapter 16

Doctor Rass was on his way to talk to Stephen when he saw an admiral strike up a conversation with him. Dorrin decided to just hang back and wait his turn. He wasn't meaning to eavesdrop, but when he saw the initial reaction on Commander Kirk's face, he just had to. He maneuvered himself just close enough to the conversation to hear the admiral say "I hear only eight people were killed under your command. I would have thought the number would have been higher. For you, that should come as a great achievement."

"What a pile of vekesh droppings!" He thought. He almost said it out loud. He continued listening in on the admiral's verbal tirade against the commander. Had he not read the report? Was this human just completely clueless to what they had been through? The crew had just received an award for their bravery and this Arkelian swamp slug was treating him like a criminal. Dorrin saw the look in the commander's eyes. Obviously, he wasn't going to say anything. This admiral must part of Stephen's chain of command. Eventually, the admiral concluded the attack by saying, "Enjoy the party." With that, the commander headed for the door of the reception hall.

Well, this admiral may be in Commander Kirk's chain of command, but by the insignia on his collar, he certainly wasn't in Dorrin's chain. It's time someone put this idiot in his place. "And I'm just the person to do it," the doctor thought. Grabbing a glass of the revolting liquid called 'champagne' from a nearby catering station, he headed over to the admiral.

"Good evening, doctor," the admiral stated with a smile.

The doctor smirked. "Well, it was... " he started. "Might I ask your name?"

Somewhat taken aback, the admiral answered almost instinctively, "Admiral Wellington... Admiral Jason Wellington. And you are Doctor Rass, are you not?"

Dorrin took a deep breath. "Yes, I am. I overheard your discussion with Commander Kirk." His eyes narrowed a bit.

Wellington almost stumbled backwards. That conversation wasn't meant for witnesses. "Well..." he started, guarding his words while trying not to sound panicked. "discipline can sometimes seem harsh..."

"Oh, that wasn't discipline, Admiral." Dorrin replied with an all-knowing smile. "You and I both know it." The admiral tried to say something in his defense, but Dorrin interrupted. "Actually, as a doctor, my initial assessment would be someone with anger management issues, and potential psychological issues like psychosis. Tell me, Admiral... how many times have you lashed out like that to people?"

"Doctor," the admiral was seeing where this was going. "You don't know the whole story. I suggest you..."

"You'll suggest nothing. I can see your persecution issues with Stephen Kirk. He is, apparently, the focus of some deep-rooted inferiority issues you have." He cocked his head to one side, trying to get under the admiral's skin.

"Doctor Rass," his nostrils flared a bit, his gaze became more intense, "you're overstepping yourself. I'd be very careful about what you're doing..."

"You know something, Admiral?" Dorrin stood straight up and looked down on the admiral. Clearly, Doctor Rass had at least ten centimeters on this admiral and he intended to use them. "Your threat would have a lot more weight if my chain of command had your name in it somewhere. Pity... but it doesn't." Once again, the admiral tried to say something, but Dorrin cut him off. "Now, let me tell you something. I am being very careful in what I'm doing. I'm noticing a high ranking officer in Starfleet showing signs of mental instability. For the record, I will be noting this in my medical logs. If I see any regularity to this behavior, I'll have no choice but to recommend a full psychiatric evaluation be performed on you. And, unlike you... who probably doesn't have a friend to his name... I have several on the Starfleet Medical Board."

"Things change, Doctor," Admiral Wellington said slowly, through gnashed teeth.

The doctor smirked. He had gotten under his skin alright. "Not that much, they don't." He rebuked. "Now, hopefully, this behavior is an isolated incident... and it won't happen again. Perhaps a good night's sleep will do you some good. If you like, I can prescribe some mild tranquilizers to help you rest." The smirk twisted into an all out smile.

"That won't be necessary, Doctor," the admiral said mockingly. "and you've just decided to stand on the wrong side of a fight."

"Actually, no I haven't." Dorrin said flatly. "I've decided to defend a man who saved my life, the lives of most of his crew, the lives of the Enterprise crew, and however many more people would have died at the hands of those thaloron weapons we destroyed. I would say your psychosis is forcing you to see demons that don't exist any more... if they ever did." The admiral glared at him. "Now, remember, Admiral... for your own sake... I'll be watching you." The doctor raised his glass, having successfully accomplishing his mission. "Enjoy the party." He mocked.

The doctor walked off and took a drink of the champaign. "Hey... this stuff doesn't taste that bad after all." He thought. 


	17. Chapter 17

Commander Kirk slowly walked back into his quarters aboard the Warlord, his week of vacation almost at an end. "Computer, lights." He dropped three suitcases of personal effects he brought from his apartment and looked around as the lights came on. Everything was right back to normal. The recliner chair that had been smashed against the wall was now repaired and replaced. His mural dedicated to 1950's movies was repaired and reattached to the wall. Even his floor lamp was fixed. 

For the most part, he had enjoyed himself. The rodeo wound up being as hysterical as it was entertaining. His time at Yu's was even better. He had gotten to know some of the other crew even better. Stephen hoped to consider them friends as well. He and Box spent quite a bit of time on the beach, since Box had never seen sand or water waves up close. Watching him run in and out of the water, chiming with delight was like watching a kid. The presence of a semi-transparent spider in the water sat better with some beach-goers than others, though. They got to enjoy some home cooking from his mom, too. It was good to see the whole family back together. He and Box even surprised Ensign Bristol by going to the hyperbike races to see him.

His week wasn't without its downsides, though. Stephen made it a point to go to each of the eight memorial services held for his fallen crewmembers on Monday and Tuesday. He wanted to remember the faces of the first people to die under his command. Although the battle against Wellington's words was still present in his mind, it had subsided. Stephen had come to understand it was the Remans who killed those crewmen, not him. It would have been easier to understand if Wellington was the only one who felt that way. Wellington was just the only one obnoxiously vocal in expressing it.

With a deep sigh, Kirk went about unpacking his things. He spent the remainder of that Sunday rearranging his personal effects and watching the Broncos and Chargers football game. 


	18. Chapter 18

Box returned to his quarters slowly. He noticed a few places the repair crews had failed to fix properly and made a mental note of them. "Hhhhhlights." He said quietly. The normally white lights of the other cabins had been replaced by a cooler, softer blue. The windows in his quarters had been covered by opaque curtains. Although his room still had a couch for his humanoid friends, his main chair had been replaced by a hard rubber structure with indentations for the bottom of his thorax and abdomen. The bed had been replaced by a flexisteel mesh hammock that more closely resembed the web he would normally spin for himself. Box's quarters were considered spartan by his humanoid friends, but it reminded him of the caves he lived in on Hamal. It was home.

Box had thoroughly enjoyed his time on Earth, aside from the few humans who were consumed with arachnophobia. Earth was a glorious place. His most wonderous sight had to be a place called the Gulf of Mexico. He had seen pictures of vast expanses of water like that, but he had never experienced it in person. Hamal's water was deep underground and only accessible by well, stream, or geyser. The Gulf was warm to the touch. The waves nearly knocked him over and... most exhilerating of all, no matter how he reformed the ends of his legs, they continually sank into the sand. The landscape of Earth was so alive and varied, nothing like the rocky, gray heat of Hamal. Being able to hold his breath for over thirty minutes allowed him to see yet another aspect of Earth, life underwater. He could have easily spent years on Earth exploring all it had to offer.

Visiting Tyler at the hyperbike tournament had been a pleasant surprise for him. Tyler told everyone that he would be racing so his new friends would watch. He wasn't counting on seeing he and Stephen at the finish line of the finals. Much to everyone's surprise, even Tyler's, he had come in third out of 136 initial racers and was the proud recipient of a fairly large trophy. Tyler's own family had not come to the race, which Box thought curious. In fact, Ensign Bristol hadn't mentioned his family much at all, either at the restaurant or the race. He seemed geniunely grateful that he and Stephen had come. That made Box happy.

He took his favorite piece of clothing off, his new cowboy hat, and looked around. He had nowhere to put it. "Hhhhhlooks like I'll have to get a hatrack." He chimed to himself. He placed it on a large, flat stone table in his living area and spent the rest of the day relaxing in his seat, listening to the chirps, chimes, and clicks of Hamalki poetry and munching on his new favorite food... eggrolls. 


	19. Chapter 19

Before going to his quarters, Tom Kelly poked his head into the main engineering room. The progress was amazing. The room looked like nothing had ever happened. The two main support beams were back in place. The burn marks on the far wall were back to their industrial white and gray. Even the floor had been swept. As he looked around, impressed, a large crate caught his eye. It was tall, almost six meters in height and it was fairly thin... just the right proportions for... it couldn't be. 

Tom threw his bag down and ran up to the box like a kid in a candy store. Desperately, he felt around for the access panel. It was just above his head and along the back. He pressed a few buttons, then pressed the 'Unlock' button. With a hiss, the front panel swung open. He peered around the corner and had to keep himself from drooling. It was a tall, cylindrical object made of silver borders and numerous clear windows. Inside the window, a bluish green flowing plasma could be seen simliar to the plasma in the anti-matter chamber. Protruding from the cylinder were several connectors... neural connectors! The real computer core had finally arrived!

It took quite a bit of self control to keep him from calling up some of his team to install it immediately. It would definately go in tomorrow morning. Cautiously, as if holding a Delvan egg sculpture, he closed the door and backed away with a smile. "A fitting conclusion to the vacation." He said aloud. He had gotten everything he wanted in this past week... he had gotten his marital life back on track, several days of rest, a walleye he had stuffed the very next day, and his first commendation. His doubts about his engagement had completely left him. In fact, they had even set a date. They would be married on June 20 of next year, the fifth anniversary of their first date. They took a quick trip to Sydney to get an official engagement ring. Corina was more than happy to be rid of the 'promise ring' he had given her a year ago.

Yes, things were finally starting to fall into place for the chief engineer. He whistled the melody to "There's a Lucky Star Over Me Tonight" as he picked up his bag and left the engineering room for his quarters. He guessed he'd need a bigger bed once they were married. 


	20. Chapter 20

Elaine had stared for several minutes through a viewing window at the Warlord before actually walking in. The events of the Rapier battle had seemed so distant. Then, as she looked at the fully restored Warlord, the memories seemed to fade even more into shadows. She had examined the main saucer section carefully. It took her a few moments to realize what had changed. Eventually, it dawned on her; the lettering on top of the saucer had changed from 'NX 8000' to 'NCC 76032'. The ship had also been repainted. It had gone from its original silvery white to a dark gray. She thought it somehow had made the ship look 'dingy'. Still, looking at the repaired vessel somehow made the combat surreal.

She thought back to the award ceremony as she walked down the gangplank. She had walked out, in order, as instructed. As she stepped onto the stage, like the others, she was greeted with applause, which continued as the Fleet Admiral Westerly pinned the medal on her uniform. She couldn't help but stand a little taller in the presence of all those other 'important people' she had normally just read about or watched on a viewer. Then, as Commander Donatra talked about the need for better relations with the Federation, the impact of what they had done finally hit her. She had to fight back the tears.

"We sat helpless as two so-called 'enemy vessels' defended our world from possible extinction. We watched as 'enemies' died to save us. We can never, ever, thank you enough."

Donatra even went so far as to suggest there would be official peace talks between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Relations between the two had warmed over the years... the Dominion War had forced that. Nothing had been spoken of long-term, however, until yesterday. What they had done may very well have changed the course of history. That knowledge had somehow changed her. Elaine had actually filled out the request form to be transferred to the diplomatic division of Starfleet and stay on Earth with her friends. After the party Saturday evening, she deleted the form.

Elaine spent most of the week partying with her friends at night, then sleeping for most of the day. How her friends did this as a living, she'd never know, but... it was a nice diversion. After her 'indiscretion' Monday night, she successfully kept from getting completely drunk the rest of the week. She was bound and determined to never do anything stupid for a man again. She entered her quarters. "Computer; lights, please." Her lights came up to reveal a living area that had been completely put back together. She walked through each room to access the quality of the replacements.

Most of her furniture was reproduced from the Victorian era. She had considered that period of Earth history to be completely romantic. Her bed was a large, queen sized bed with tapered posts that topped off with a canopy. Her chaise lounge was slightly understuffed to provide a more firm sitting area. Her couch had pinned her small coffee table against the wall, breaking a leg and putting a tear in the wall fabric. Those had both been fixed. She smiled as she walked past her new table. She brushed the polished top with her fingers as she headed to her bed. With a sigh, she threw herself onto her bed, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it to her chest. She was confident she could do this job.

Her thoughts wandered to Tony Moreau. Looking back, she had been unnecessarily harsh to him Tuesday night. Unfortunately, she hadn't the time or the nerve to call him and apologize. He had been nothing but nice to her. Now, she was going to have to work with him. Even worse, his console was right next to hers. That will make for a very uncomfortable career. Eventually, she was going to have to talk to him and straighten everything out. On her bed, she started thinking of what she'd say to him. 


	21. Chapter 21

T'Nia stopped by the bridge before heading to her quarters. She wanted to see for herself if the repairs inside were the same high quality as the outside. The doors to the turbolift slid open with a hiss. She gave a satisfactory nod as she examined the small bridge area. The seats were polished and the cushions restored. The burned panels in the ceiling had been replaced. Even the blood from the bridge injuries had been cleaned. Yes, everything was acceptable.

Then, she approached her desk. Her tactical station had been fixed so well, if she hadn't seen the destruction with her own eyes, she would have never known. Atop her console, neatly folded, was the white sheet she had placed over it. Her 'Room Service Requested' sign had been removed. Instead, a small, white plate sat on top of the folded sheet. On the plate was a small, round mint. She had been one-upped by the repair crew. T'Nia pursed her lips to keep from smiling. Humor was such a human characteristic. Initially, she had been hesitant to embrace it. As she discovered, mostly through her Academy days, there was a sense of satisfaction when a joke was successfully executed. Humor required an in-depth knowledge of the subject matter, a quick wit, and excellent timing. In the end, T'Nia had concluded that 'intelligent' humor was perfectly acceptable and logical.

Regretfully, that was one of several conclusions her betrothed disagreed on. She decided to keep her communications with Sekir to herself for now. Eventually, once everyone had settled in, she would definately talk to Stephen about them. It was obvious that Sekir had come to the conclusion that she had been spending entirely too much time away from her own kind and it had been corrupting her. Such words had never actually come from him, but it was obvious in the things he was, and wasn't, saying. His last two communications had been almost emphatic that she return to Vulcan for a time so they could 're-acquaint' themselves.

The time she spent at the Vulcan Embassy in Arizona, however, went a long way to discourage her from spending an extended period of time on Vulcan. The counter person, as well as the other visitors were logical, informative, and disconnected... Vulcan. She found herself looking for reasons to go out into the city, however, to interact with humans. They seemed so much more alive. For humans, passion and emotion were their driving force. From her studies, it was their passion that took them from being several decades behind Vulcans in technology to being the quadrant leaders in technology in less than two centuries. T'Nia was satisfied being the voice of logic and reason in a human environment. She hoped her husband-to-be would eventually understand that. 


	22. Chapter 22

Tyler pressed his face against the viewport of Spacedock, warranting an audible clearing of the throat from a maintenance person walking past. Using his sleeve, he wiped the grease from the window. "Sorry," he said with a big grin. He looked again at the great ship he would be navigating. It had been completely repaired... and repainted. The new color made it look even more sleek than before. He couldn't wait. Grabbing his hyperbike trophy for dear life, he ran down the covered gangplank and into the superstructure of the Warlord. He stared inside and marvelled at the quickness of the repairs. As he ran through hallways, he nearly knocked over three support personnel. "Sorry!" He'd yell.

He got to his quarters and the door quietly slid open. "Lights!" he yelled. He room was completely restored. Having a room in the interior of the ship, there was very little damage done, just the jostling of some furniture. As thorough as the repair crews had been, even those were fixed. He looked over on his main shelf in his small living quarters. The opening he had made for his commendation was still there. Taking the pin and the letter from his knapsack, he carefully placed them in their appointed place. Sure enough, there was ample room for more. He decided to place his trophy on the dresser below the shelf. Using the bottom of his jacket, he polished off the fingerprint marks, stepped back, and looked at his growing 'Wall of Achievement' with a smile.

His parents just didn't understand... and probably never will. He had gotten into three separate fights with his father during his vacation and was forced to watch his mother cry over his career choice twice. Although she had admitted she'd rather Tyler try a career at hyperbike racing, she didn't even show up to the race. He even had to drag his unconscious brother to his bed after yet another night of drinking had gotten the better of him. No wonder his dad didn't have high hopes for Mark every being responsible. Tyler actually regretted not staying at the hotel where the doctor stayed. Part of him had hoped to clear the air with his father before he left. Things actually degraded.

"Let him have his stupid pub," Tyler said aloud. He plumped down in one of the three chairs in his living area. "I'll show 'em. I AM going to be a hero someday. I'll even be bigger than Hikaru Sulu." Once again, day dreams of epic battles in space filled his head. In his mind, the front viewscreen showed a dozen Reman warbirds bearing down while he laughed carelessly at their vein attempts to defeat him. Tyler fell asleep in his chair as the eighth warship burst into flames. 


	23. Chapter 23

Doctor Rass had to walk past the sickbay before he could get to his quarters. He decided to drop his numerous bags of souvenirs and look inside. The lights were on, the desks were nicely polished and clean... even the medical PADDs were neatly stacked. In the infirmary, the beds were all properly realigned. The bedsheets were clean, folded, and tucked. He opened the cabinet to find all his equipment had been replenished. Yes, everything was just fine.

He looked over at bed three. That was where Ensign Reynolds had died. A plasma relay exploded in engineering right next to him, burning most of the right side of his torso. It should have killed him immediately, but somehow it didn't. Regretfully, the wounds were terminal. As the young ensign struggled and clawed at him screaming, "Don't let me die!" Dorrin could see the life signs failing. In the end, Reynolds slowly slumped back onto the bed, releasing his grip on the doctor's labcoat... a look of terror impressed on his face at the moment of death.

He had three other patents arrive who were already dead. In all, he had almost thirty people who needed treatment of some kind, including himself. He hadn't been ready for the last exchange of weapons fire. When the Reman's last volley slammed into the unshielded ship, he was sent sprawling forward onto the floor, along with most of the people in the infirmary. Thankfully, though some of the injuries were severe, most weren't. As he looked around, it was like it never happened. He nodded approvingly to the absent repair teams who fixed his sickbay and left.

He picked up his bags and clumsily headed down the hall to his quarters. After entering, he put his bags down and started removing his various souvenirs. Earth had been such a fascinating place to visit. Because of the war and occupation of Bajor, it had very few major cities still standing... certainly none the size of San Francisco. The fact there were at least a dozen other cities just as large, if not larger, than San Francisco almost overwhelmed him. He would definately be visiting Earth again... many times, if he had anything to say about it.

His mind drifted back to the 'conversation' he had with Admiral Wellington. Although the admiral may have good reasons for his criticism of Commander Kirk, that verbal bashing was simply wrong. Hopefully, the admiral will never actually test Dorrin's friends at Starfleet Medical, mainly because he didn't have any per se. He had a few acquaintences, but no one who would really go to bat for him in the event he brought the admiral up for a psychiatric review. It was just another case of jumping into a situation mouth first. He had to learn to control his mouth better than that. Angering a Starfleet admiral isn't the best career move a guy could make... but it sure was fun. 


	24. Chapter 24

Tony was having a hard time juggling everything he had brought with him. He had two suitcases full of 'stuff' he had brought from his apartment as well as a large box with a fresh Angelo's pizza. It took him until late in the afternoon before he had made it back aboard the Warlord. He was amazed at how quickly and how thoroughly the ship had been repaired. Of course, as he walked past the crew stationed on Spacedock, he was faced with several versions of the 'So where's your pizza?' or 'I don't suppose I could borrow that box for a sec?' questions.

Being home had been great. He and his brother, Ricky, shared an apartment on the west side, not far from La Grange. It wasn't large, but it was enough, especially since Tony was hardly ever there. His oldest brother, Chris, lived in Omaha with his wife and three boys. No matter how busy the schedule, when mom says 'Everyone come over for dinner', you drop what you're doing and head over for dinner. She pulled that three times while he was on Earth. Not that he was complaining... she could cook up a storm to make the best food processors in Starfleet jealous. Add that to the fresh perch the Moreau brothers picked up on Navy Pier and Tony figured he gained at least ten pounds. Life was good.

Tony had visited all his favorite hangouts on the Loop, his favorite being McGilley's Bar just off Michigan Street. Although they only served synthoholic beverages, he didn't mind. Tony never could acquire a taste for the 'hard stuff'. His favorite aspect of the bar... well... second favorite aspect... was the back room. It was filled with old-style pool tables. Tony loved to play pool and had grown to be quite a player, though he never got into the 24th century counterpart, dahmjad. 

His first favorite aspect of the bar had to be Mike McGilley, the current owner, and his old elementary school friend. Aside from reminiscing on old times, talking about current business, and comparing notes on old flames, they made an interesting team at the piano. Mike was a potentially professional baritone singer who never got the break he wanted and Tony used to bang away at the keys. For years, Tony's playing could never quite rival his friend's singing, but that never stopped them from performing at the bar when his Dad owned it. Eventually, though, Mike's practicing dwindled and Tony's playing improved... so now they made a pretty good team.

Tony had made more memories this week. As his thoughts rewound through the week, he was invariably drawn to Tuesday night, where he had hoped to get to know Elaine Davies a little better. He had thought they were getting along well after the Rapier Conflict. Something just seemed to change in her after they got back home. She just wasn't the same, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong. What confused him even more was her reaction to him at the end of the night. "You would have thought I had some kind of disease, or something!" He said aloud. He smiled as he realized he was talking to the air in his quarters. Although part of him had certainly hoped he and Elaine could eventually become more than friends, he was definately expecting to be friends. "Oh, well," he admitted to himself, "if she's got other people she'd rather hang with, let her."

Walking over to the replicator, he smiled. This would be a great ending to a mostly perfect week. "Computer - I need a beer, nice and cold." The small alcove in his living area complied by lighting up and producing a pilsner glass full of syntholic beer. Taking it, he walked over to his couch and plopped himself down, then put his box of pizza on the table in front of him. "Computer - how is the Broncos, Chiefs game going?"

The female computer voice responded, "There are three minutes, fifteen seconds left in the fourth quarter. The Kansas City Chiefs are leading the Denver Broncos thirty-eight to seventeen. The Kansas City Chiefs are in possession of the football on the Denver forty-two yard line. On their second down, they have seven yards to go..."

"Never mind." Tony said, shaking his head. "Denver's getting stomped. Computer - put the Bears, Cowboys game on the video panel." The game had just started. He looked over at his communicator, which was still sitting on the end table where he left it. Tomorrow, Stephen Kirk would be his superior officer again, which was still a little uncomfortable for him. After all, they had graduated from the Academy together. Sure... Steve was six years older, but still... He shook the thought from his mind. All that could wait until tomorrow. For now, it was just Steve, his friend for over ten years. 

Leaning over, he picked up his comm badge and tapped it. "Moreau to Kirk."

His comm badge popped. "Steve here. What's up Tone?"

Tony smiled. "I see your Broncos are getting embarassed again."

The voice on the other end sounded a bit disappointed. "Yeah, yeah. Looks like they'll be missing the playoffs this year."

"Why don't you come on over here and watch a REAL team play football."

"Oh? I thought the Bears were playing tonight." Steve's voice was just dripping with sarcasm.

Tony leaned back in his couch. "Poke fun if you want. The Bears have clinched a playoff spot."

"Thanks for pouring salt in the wound, Tone."

Tony's voice became melodic as he almost sang the words, "I've got a fresh Angelo's pizza..."

Stephen's voice sparked to life. "You do not."

"Oh, yes I do... extra pepperoni and extra cheese."

"Extra greasy, too, I bet."

"One slice could lubricate the entire ship." Tony replied with a wry smile. He picked up a piece and had to fold it in half lengthwise.

"I'll be right there. Kirk out." 


	25. Chapter 25

"Captain's log, stardate 56918.5... Commander Kirk reporting. We're back from vacation and everyone seems well rested. The ship's in pretty good shape, too. You can't even tell we trashed it just over two weeks ago. Kudos to the repair personnel at Spacedock. We still have a few major systems to install and a nagging problem with the main cannons before we're fully operational. We're also missing over half our crew compliment... not to mention a captain. Apparently, we got an early Christmas present. Lieutenant Kelly informs me our computer core arrived some time last week. He has invited Tony and me to watch it get installed... sounds like fun. End log entry."

Kirk and Moreau walked through the main door of engineering at the same time. It was the first time Tony had ever visited main engineering. The room was immense. In the center of the square room was the anti-matter/dilithium chamber, a two-story tube with flowing blue energy visible through the many windows along its length. From the ceiling over the chamber were two large pipes, one that led forward and a much larger one that led towards the back. He recognized the destination of the forward pipe. It led to the main power distribution center, which supplied power to the ships systems. The larger pipe in towards the back went behind the wall and, presumably, to the engines. What especially caught his eye was a second chamber, partially built into the back wall. Computer access panels abounded throughout the room. A half dozen cabinets were also built into the walls at various points. A central access console, that looked more like a rectangular table, was just in front of the main chamber.

Tony counted at least a dozen people in this room, including an extremely attractive looking feline-looking ensign standing at the central access console. Actually, the more he looked at her, the more he thought he shouldn't find her attractive, since she was VERY cat-like. Her frame was small and thin. Her thighs large and obviously powerful. Her arms looked disproportionally long, compared to a humans. Her entire body was covered in a reddish, brown fur. The hair on top of her head could have been more accurately described as a mane, except it was quite long in the back and wrapped into a pony tail. Her eyes were slotted and bright green. As odd a creature as she was, she was somehow... exotic. His evaluation of the rest of the room ceased. "Wow..." he whispered.

Stephen looked his friend over and followed his eyesight to the Catian. Kirk could understand. It was the look as well as the phermones. Stephen had served with a Catian mated pair previously. It had led to some... interesting... situations. As the commander looked around, he noticed that a number of males' eyes occasionally wandered her way. Kirk rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers in front of Tony's face. "Hey," he said in a friendly, but commanding tone, "I need you HERE."

Tony barely recognized the finger snapping, but shook his head and shut his eyes. "Sorry, Ste... I mean, Sir." He said finally, when his head cleared. He was still getting used to calling Steve 'Sir'.

They resumed their walk over to Lieutenant Kelly, who was standing next to a tall, thin container. Behind him, several panels in the floor had been removed. A pile of circuits, wires, connecting rods, and boxes sat on the floor next to the hole. "G'day, guys!" Tom exclaimed. "Come see our new toy."

They approached the container, and peered into the open panel. The blue pulses of plasma light from within the crate gave away its contents. Tony opened the door some more. "Oh, my God," he exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

Stephen pursed his lips. "No, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me."

"This array is so new they don't even have a name for it yet." He pointed to the three cylindrical compartments on the tower. "Each one is a computing matrix of two-hundred and fifty-six positronic processors in ionized neural plasma. Each matrix could control a small city." He pointed to the dozen cables protruding from its sides. "Each one of those holds twelve six hundred terrabyte data connectors. This is incredible."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. T'Nia would have been proud. "Exactly how do you know all this if this computer is THAT new?"

"Um..." Tony shuffled his feed. "I did some poking around in the computer system on Vega while we were waiting."

Kirk shook his head and smiled. "Okay... officially I didn't hear that." He pointed to the computer core. "So, I presume you wanted us here to watch this thing get installed?"

"Well," Tom replied, "that's why I wanted him down here." He pointed to Tony, who stood tall and smiled.

"What about me?" Kirk asked.

"I was kinda hoping you'd keep him from drooling on it while we put it in." The three laughed.

Stephen pointed to the lump of computer parts and wires on the floor. "So... what's that?"

"That? That's our old computer... the one I slapped together with whatever I could find in the shipyards." His smile broadened even more.

"We went into combat with that?"

"Yeah..." Tom said, laughing. "To be perfectly honest, after I put that thing in, I was just happy the doors would open." 


	26. Chapter 26

Moments later, the doors to engineering opened again. Two ensigns walked in carrying a large crate. Two magnetic clamps rested on top.

"Ah...good." Lieutenant Kelly motioned over to the two incoming crewmen. "Just set that crate down and open it. Each of you grab a pair and bring me one, too. Bring the clamps with you, too." Tom looked at everyone in the room. "Everyone, if you're part of the insertion team, get over here and grab a pair of boots. Everyone else, just sit tight and hold on to something." He looked at an inquisitive commander and chief systems officer. "We'll be turning off the artificial gravity in this section of the ship so we can put the computer core in. It's a heavy beast. Why don't you two grab a hold of the main console there and watch the show."

Stephen looked at Tony. "Good idea." They walked over to the console and grabbed the edge. "Good morrrning, Commanderrr." The catian ensign purred. She smiled to reveal small fangs.

"Good morning," Kirk struggled to remember her name. It finally came to him. "Ensign P'rr's, isn't it?"

Her face lit up. "Yes, Sirrr. I am honorrred you rrrememberrr." She closed her eyes and bowed slightly.

Kirk smiled warmly. "You're a difficult woman to forget." He was familiar with catian ways after a rather embarassing conversation he had a few years ago with a certain catian husband.

She smiled sweetly. "You arrre a handome perrrson yourrrself, Sirrr." she purred.

Kirk chuckled. "It runs in the family." Tony cleared his throat. Kirk rolled his eyes at the obvious sign. Subtlety was never one of Tony's strong suits. Come to think about it, he was about as subtle as a phaser rifle on full charge. "Ensign, allow me to introduce you to our chief system engineer, Lieutenant Tony Moreau."

She reached out her hand. "A pleasurrre to meet you, Lieutenant Morrreau." Her smile was warm.

He took her hand and shook it gently. "Believe me, Ensign, the pleasure is all mine. I love how you say my name." 

"Oh, brother," Kirk remarked. "You and I need to talk later." He added with a knowing smile.

P'rr's picked it up immediately. "You arrre familiarrr with the catian people?" she asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he answered with a reassuring smile. "I served with a mated pair at my previous ship."

P'rr's seemed visibly relieved. "Thank goodness," she sighed. "Serrrving aboarrrd this ship was a good idea. I shall visit you frrrequently."

"You know," Tony commented, trying to recover some of his pride after being rejected for Steve. "we do have a non-fraternization law in Starfleet."

Stephen just shook his head. "Zip it, Moreau. I'll explain it later." he rebuked with a semi-authoritative tone.

"Sorry, Sir." All the feelings of being second best to his 'best friend' came flying back to him. Even though Steve needed him in order to pass all his systems classes... even though he passed the entrance exam and Steve didn't... even though he graduated higher than Steve... he usually got first choice at the girls, he got promoted faster, and now he's getting P'rr's. It just wasn't fair.

Six other people went over to the crate full of magnetic boots and put on a pair. With the boots securely fastened, the clanked over to the two meter tall, three hundred kilogram computer core and waited.

Tom put his pair of boots on as well. "P'rr's, turn off the gravity."

"Aye, aye, Sirrr." she replied. With a couple of quick keystrokes, the gravity turned off. Stephen and Tony kicked their legs up in the air to enjoy the weightlessness. Sure, it was childish, but it was fun. P'rr's couldn't help but follow suit. A few of the crewmen on the second floor decided to do some free floating in the zero G atomosphere, too.

"It seems we have a shipful of kids." Tom remarked, apparently not noticing the commander doing the same. Stephen shot him a friendly, sideways glance. "Well, okay... I'd be doing it myself if I didn't have work to do." The room of people chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... get those clamps on the computer core." They attached with a loud clang. "Alright, let's get around it and lift it very gently. This baby weighs well over three hundred kilos. If it starts moving too fast, our boots won't keep us on the floor. Here's what we'll do. On the count of three, everyone pull up as hard as you can for three seconds, then stop. We just need it off the floor by ten or fifteen centimeters. Ready? One... two... three."

Four people grabbed on the handles on the clamps and pulled as hard as they could. As Tom counted back from three, the core eventually came off the ground. As Tom predicted, the core had picked up a good head of steam. The core came off the ground. "Okay, everyone... push down." Also, as he predicted, they couldn't quite stop it. As his lifting crew tried to push the core to a stop, they came off the floor, their boots unable to secure them. His mind calculated quickly. "Okay, everyone else, get over on my left side... hurry!" The other eight people quickly clanked into position. "Now... let's pull this thing over to my left side. We'll use its inertia to our favor. Pull!" Instead of pushing it down, they grabbed the handles and knocked it over to one side. The top of the core came slowly down as the bottom continue to go up. The other eight, however, had enough strength to stop the core from hitting the ground. Eventually, the core was on its side.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief, especially Kirk and Moreau. Eventually, they maneuvered the core into the concave hole in the floor just below the floor plates. Slowly, the blue cylinder dropped into place. The engineers quickly connected the cables to the rest of the network wiring and sealed the opening in the floor. "P'rr's... go ahead and turn the gravity back on."

"Yes, Sirrr." She said happily. The gravity came on slowly, allowing people who were still floating the opportunity to land safely. Once gravity was back to normal, the entire room erupted with cheers and applause. "Alright!" Tom yelled to the people on the second floor. "Let's cut the umbilical connection to Spacedock and get this baby online!" There were more applause, especially from the bridge officers who were in the room.

Eventually, the cheers ended except for the claps from one person, whom no one saw enter the room. He continued clapping. He was a fairly tall man and appeared in his late fifties or early sixties. His peppered brown and white hair was neatly cut in timeless military fashion. His red uniform was equally as neatly pressed. His brown eyes squinted a bit and were fairly close together. By his midsection, it also seemed he didn't miss too many meals, either. "Well done, everybody." He said. His accent was mild, but definately Russian.

Stephen walked up to the middle aged man. On his collar, he counted four full pips... the rank of captain. "Can I help you, Captain?" Stephen asked. He had a sneaking suspicion what he was about to hear.

"Well," the captain began with a smile, "not any more. I was looking for my new first officer, but I seem to have found him." 


	27. Chapter 27

"I must admit," the new Captain Bolerov conceded, "this is the first time I have ever officially launched a new starship. My previous assignments were to vessels that were already in service." He passed the mashed potatoes to Tom, who was sitting just to the right of him.

They were seated in the officers' mess hall, which was located just off the main mess hall on the third deck of the superstructure. There, they had fashioned two of the tables together and were eating in luxury, well, as much luxury as the food replicator could produce. Considered an early Thanksgiving dinner, the captain thought it would be a good idea to get familiar with his command crew over a meal. It was a typical American Thanksgiving feast with all the trimmings. He had even thought to include apple butter for the rolls as well as a lit candleabra as a centerpiece.

"Yeah, me, too." Tom replied. The meal had been underway for some time. Tom, being Australian, didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, but with this much food, he was considering changing nationalities. He heaped a generous second helping of potatoes onto his plate, then reached for the gravy. Each of the rest of the crew nodded their heads in agreement.

The captain took a long drink from his wine. With his glass still in hand, he pointed around the room. "You know, considering everything that has happened to you people, you've gone beyond exemplary in your accomplishments. You should be very proud." He smiled warmly. Andrei knew a little about Lydia Velasquez, the former captain of the then-in-construction Warlord. She was a motherly type... fearless in battle, but nurturing to her crew. Although he wasn't like that, he knew he had to do something to minimize the culture shock of such different leadership styles. His forty years in Starfleet told him that. Besides, their accomplishments WERE something to be proud of.

"Thank you, Captain," Kirk replied. "A lot of this crew had to grow up pretty quickly in the past couple of weeks." Kirk wasn't sure what to make of 'Crash' Bolerov. He knew virtually nothing about the captain, except his nickname. He was dying to hear the explanation.

"Well, here's hoping our presence in the alpha quadrant will be a deterrant and not an inspiration." He raised his glass.

"Here here." Everyone said in agreement. They raised their glasses as well.

"Captain... I am curious." T'Nia began.

Bolerov set his glass down. "About what, Lieutenant Commander?" He sensed the question coming. It was a question asked of him at least a hundred times.

"Your nickname, Crash... how did it originate?" Kirk was actually glad T'Nia asked.

Bolerov smiled again. "I was wondering when someone would ask me that. It was... oh, my... twenty-three years ago, during the Cardassian War. I was the recently promoted captain of the Vigilant, one of the old Excelsior mark 2 ships. We were patrolling an area near the badlands when we were ambushed by two Galor-class cuisers. We managed to defeat one, but the other one was getting the upper hand. It got so bad between the two ships that we lost most of our weapons. The weapons room was a mess and firing control was destroyed. We had three torpedoes in launch tubes, but my chief engineer was going to have to fire them manually and without a targeting system. Our shields were almost gone, but so were the Cardassians'. I had our helsman spin us around and loop us underneath the Cardassian ship. With less than a thousand meters before we hit, I told the engineer to fire the remaining torpedoes. I had the navigator increase speed to full. The torpedoes hit the belly of the Cardassian ship, its least armored part. Then, we rammed the exact place we shot. We cut completely through the ship, and took out most of the saucer section I might add. But... at the end of the day, we limped away the winner. I swear... ever since that day I haven't rammed a single ship." He winked. "But... it was too late. I have been stuck with the nickname 'Crash' ever since." He shrugged his shoulders for emphasis.

The group seemed satisfied with that explanation. They resumed finishing their meals, each contemplating the story they had been told and the man who would command them.

Bolerov could tell there was still an uneasiness to the group. It would take awhile before he would fit in with the rest of the crew relations. Back in his 'strictly military' days, it really didn't matter whether the crew liked you or not. It wasn't your job to be popular. However, these were different times and Starfleet vessels weren't strictly military extensions any more. Gone were the days of the battleships, the cruisers, and the destroyers. More desireable, and more populous, were the researchers, the deep space explorers, and the relief ships. The Dreadnaught project had been a tough project to sell. It was the resurrection of a bygone era that most people wanted to forget. The project had actually been rejected twice before the Dominion War. That finally made believers out of many who 'rode the fence.'

"Captain," Kirk began slowly. "I realize you have no reason to answer to us or even answer questions..."

Bolerov smiled. "What's on your mind, Commander?"

"Well... you were promoted to captain twenty-three years ago. You're still a captain. Was there something you did to keep you from being promoted?" Stephen was hoping he didn't imply any wrong-doing.

"Ah." Andrei thought several moments on how to phrase his words. "Actually, I did do something." The group now listened intently on his words. "Shortly after the Dominion War, I retired. I was an author for several years. As a matter of fact, you've probably been forced to read a book or two that I wrote in the Academy... most likely starship combat tactics." That statement brought a light of revelation to several, including Stephen, who then instantly remembered where he had seen the captain's name. "My apologies if they were boring." He offered.

"Anyway, I was asked to rejoin a little over five years ago as part of Strategic Planning. I accepted, because they told me the Dreadnaught Project was restarting. The tactical design of this ship was my first project." Bolerov pointed to Kirk. "Up until a couple of weeks ago, I could have safely said I know more about what this ship could do than you. That, however, has obviously changed. Once Warlord was under construction, I got the bug back in me to command. I asked the 'powers-that-be' if I could apply for the captaincy. To my surprise, they said 'yes'. Apparently, I was their second choice." Everyone smiled politely.

"Look, ladies and gentlemen. I know I'm not Lydia. She and I have very different command styles. I'm old school and military. She came from a science background. She's a grandmother and I never married. I'm a chess player and she's a rock climber. Although I never knew her personally, I knew her professionally. She was spontaneous and clever. No matter what ship she served on, she was their best friend. If I do say so myself, I'm a pretty good person, too. Where she was thrust into combat situations and proven herself capable, that was my life. It's been awhile since I've commanded a starship, but as long as I know where the bathroom is, we'll be alright. What do you say?" He raised his glass. "To the Warlord and her crew, past, present, and future."

Everyone smiled and toasted, feeling better about the new captain. One thought kept going through Kirk's mind for the remainder of the evening. This made two captains in a row brought out of retirement. What was going on? 


	28. Chapter 28

Captain Andrei Bolerov was still unpacking some of his items in his quarters when he heard the unfamiliar chime of the door panel. He looked around, wondering what the sound was. Momentarily, the door chimed again. "Oh, for Pete's sake. It's the door." He said aloud. "Come in."

The door slid open with a hiss. Commander Kirk stood at the doorway. The captain had taken his jacket off. It was draped over a large brown recliner next to the door. Bolerov had a large suitcase opened on a dark wooden coffee table in the middle of the living quarters and was obviously removing items from it. He was currently holding an antique African hunting mask; long, narrow, and covered with red and yellow paint. "I'm sorry, Sir." Stephen started. "I didn't mean to bother you. I can come back later if you... "

The captain looked inquisitive. "No, no, Commander." Bolerov started. "Come and have a seat." He motioned to a lighter colored brown sofa next to the chair.

"Thank you, Sir." Stephen replied gratefully. He walked in and sat down as the door slid closed behind him.

Captain Bolerov gently set down the mask and sat in his chair with a deep expulsion of breath. "What's on your mind, Commander?" he asked with an intent look. It reminded him of his C.O. back in the Starfleet Marines.

The sudden memory caused him to ask, "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" He would never have thought to ask that question with Captain Velasquez.

The question caught the captain off guard. He remembered reading that Kirk was once a Marine, but he hadn't heard that question for a long time. "Granted." he answered with a mild look of surprise.

"Captain," he started slowly. Stephen wasn't quite sure how to approach this topic, but it had been vexing him since dinner. "I... remembered you saying you had been retired, then asked to return to duty."

"Yes..." Bolerov commented warily. His thoughts swam at the question Kirk was going to ask. Perhaps Admiral Wellington was right and Kirk wasn't a good fit for this position. Was he going to question his ability to lead? The appropriateness of his appointment? Perhaps Kirk was going to question him about the incident at Deep Space Nine.

"Well, Sir... "Kirk could see that Bolerov was getting apprehensive. His next words would have to be carefully chosen. He didn't want another person questioning his position. "Captain Velasquez was retired, then came out of retirement, too. It just seems kind of odd... "

"Are you questioning my appointment to this ship, Commander?" Bolerov tried not to look upset or sound defensive, but he had already been through an interview with superior officers. He wasn't about to accept another interview by a subordinate.

"Oh, no Sir." Kirk got defensive and waved his hands. "Well... I mean... I'm just wondering why we're pulling people out of retirement to command this ship. Don't we have others in active service we could appoint?"

So, that was it. Kirk was questioning his age. Perhaps this kid thought he was too old. "First of all, Commander..." he emphasized that word, "I wasn't 'pulled out of retirement'. I was in active service until six years ago. Secondly, I wasn't overlooked for a promotion, I declined and chose retirement instead. Thirdly, I have more commendations for service than you have years of life." His voice grew more irritated with each point. His voice also became more accented. "Finally, Commander, I was already interviewed for this position and was accepted, regardless of my age." Perhaps Kirk knew about the fight with the Jem'Hadar battle cruiser and doubted him. That was too bad. That was six years ago. He was over it. "Will there be anything else, Commander?" He emphasized that word again.

Stephen realized he had pressed a bad button. It was a simple question, or so he thought. Perhaps he phrased it wrong? Perhaps he asked the wrong person? Whatever the case, he had upset his new commanding officer at a time when friends higher up in the food chain were hard to come by. Kirk stood quickly. "No, Sir." he replied with his old, Marine voice. His voice softened a bit. "I'm sorry to have troubled you."

Bolerov's look was stern, his voice steady. "I'm sorry you disturbed me, too. Dismissed."

Kirk spun on his heel and left Captain Bolerov's quarters. After the door slid closed behind him, he said to himself quietly, "Maybe I should just pack my bags now. Way to go, Steve..." He walked down the hall wondering what he could have said or done differently, other than leave it alone.

Bolerov watched the door close behind Kirk as he left. The last thing he needed was some up-and-coming commander with one combat victory to his name casting doubts. It had been six years, after all... plenty of time for that wound to heal. He didn't even think about it much any more. He was ready for another command. He could feel it. Andrei resigned himself to keep Kirk under close watch. One false move, one act of insubordination, one question of his authority, and he'd take Wellington up on his offer to have Kirk replaced.

Angrily, Bolerov picked up the African war mask and examined the etched-in frown. 


	29. Chapter 29

It had taken all night to pressurize docking area three and fill it with breathable air. Within that time, the area was abuzz with personnel preparing the floating platforms, press boxes, audience balconies, ceremonial ribbons, banners and speakers. By morning, the air in the dock was perfectly balanced, but still a little chilly. The ribbons and banners were hung in such a way as to make the entire dock look like the galactic presidential convention had come to town. Sample music from each Federation member world played from the speakers in anticipation of the guests. The platforms' gravity plates were at exactly 1G. The security guards were in place and the Starfleet Spacedock personnel were nowhere to be seen. All was perfect outside for the official launch ceremony for the Warlord.

"This is twice in less than two weeks I've had to wear this God-forsaken tunic." Kirk commented angrily as he fidgeted with the collar of his dress uniform.

"Commander, let's not start this again," T'Nia suggested with a cocked head. Kirk merely narrowed his gaze at her as he let his hands move slowly down to his sides. The rest of the bridge crew, including Box, who had stopped by to say 'hello', chuckled.

The bridge crew had assembled near the airlock near the aft cargo bay doors. They occasionally watched the small view screen to the right of the door as the audience grew. The crew recognized some of them from the celebration a week earlier. This time, however, the group wasn't nearly as nervous.

"Hhhhhthis is a lot of effort just to watch someone break a bottle... which I will probably have to clean up." Box remarked.

"If it helps," Kirk started with a smirk, "each member of the crew will get a bottle of the same stuff they break."

"Hhhhit does not." Box replied with a toothy smile.

"Yeah," commented Tony, "if they're willing to splatter it all over the front of a starship, how good can it be?"

From the corner of his eye, Tyler saw someone approaching. He turned his head to see Captain Bolerov coming towards them also in his dress uniform. Tyler waved. Everyone else continued on with their discussions. The captain approached Tyler and stood upright. "Ensign, you should announce me."

It took a few moments for Ensign Bristol to understand. When he did, his eyes bugged. "Sorry, Sir," he offered quickly. Tyler stood up straight and snapped his head forward. "Captain on deck!" He announced.

Everyone stopped and looked over. Almost instinctively, Kirk stood to attention. Their discussion last night was a rather humbling reminder that Andrei Bolerov was definately NOT Lydia Velasquez. Tyler, Rass, Tony, Elaine, Tom, Box and T'Nia saw Kirk's reaction and snapped to as well. Their discussions ceased immediately.

Bolerov raised an eyebrow to the Hamalki in the lineup. This place was going to shape up. He would make it more of a military vessel. Lydia, for all her talent and experience, obviously let these people get away with too much. That would have to change. "Lieutenant Box, is something here broken?"

"Hhhhno, Sir." Box replied with his typical loud whisper.

"Then, I believe you have a more appropriate place to be for this ceremony. This area is for bridge crew only."

Being a large, crystalline spider meant having eight eyes, but no facial expressions. That being said, his closest friends could still tell Box was a little hurt by that statement. Still, in typical Hamalki fashion, it didn't come through his voice or his body language. It was just something his friends could 'feel'. "Hhhhi understand, Sir." He bowed his head momentarily, then scampered away down the hall and out of sight.

Kirk pursed his lips. Box didn't deserve to be dismissed like a second-rate citizen like that. Tony looked down the hall after his friend with pained eyes. T'Nia momentarily watched her friend as he left, too. The others seemed a little surprised the quick dismissal as well.

Bolerov seemed a little surprised that his bridge crew would have this visible a reaction to forcing his people to adhere to proper protocol. There was just no way around this. It would be a culture shock to them initially, but they were going to have to learn this was a military vessel and needed to be run with military precision. "You're still at attention, ladies and gentlemen," he stated flatly.

Everyone's heads snapped forward and their shoulders squared. "That's better." Bolerov continued with a smile. "Now, let me look at you fine people." He dressed the crew by walking past them. "Excellent, everyone... excellent. You'll make fine dogs and ponies for our show." He finally past Kirk and turned around. One at a time, he looked at the eyes of each of his senior officers. Confident their eyes were fixed forward, he finally said, "Alright, at ease."

The group finally relaxed. "Lieutenant Davies, keep an eye on that monitor over there." Captain Bolerov pointed to the viewscreen with the external display. "Once the party starts, give the rest of the crew the okay to disembark onto their appointed floatillas."

"Aye, aye, Sir." She replied professionally. She walked over to the screen and stared at it. She felt better about looking at the screen, anyway. Something about Captain Bolerov made her uncomfortable. It might be just because he's a man, she thought... no, that wasn't it. He was obviously more confrontational than Captain Velasquez... and much more stern. She hoped her disquietting feeling would eventually pass.

The group stood in silence for several minutes. Then, Elaine saw the audience members stand. Over the small speaker next to the display, she heard the anthem of the Federation. She tapped her comm badge. "Shipwide communication." She paused. "Attention, Warlord crew... disembark to your assigned seats. I repeat; disembark to your assigned seats." She tapped her badge again. The group huddled around the wall-mounted screen to watch the crew exit the Warlord via the five walkways and onto the floating platforms with seats. The audience applauded.

Bolerov was suddenly concerned that he may have been too harsh. Perhaps a little adjustment time couldn't hurt. It wasn't as though they were going on any life-or-death missions right away. Perhaps he should lighten the mood. It had been pretty jovial until he arrived. "So, everyone," he started, his voice a little higher, "everyone has their rooms cleaned up for the tour later, right?"

"Yes, Sir." they all replied. They turned back to the viewscreen. Well, Andrei thought, that attempt at lightening the mood didn't work at all.

Eventually, Elaine turned back around. "Captain... it's our turn."

Bolerov nodded. "Okay... Ensign Bristol, open the door. Let's go meet our adoring public." That warranted a few smiles from the crew.

Bristol opened the door and the crew walked out, led by Captain Bolerov. As they made their way down the gangplank and up to the presentation platform, the audience clapped as their names were announced. The crew eventually sat down next to the senior cabinet members of the Federation. Federation Presiden T'Ken and his wife were present, of course, as were a number of admirals. Fleet Admiral Prescott was standing at the podium.

Fleet Admiral Prescott was noble in appearance and graceful in his speech. He still used old-style notecards for his speeched, however, which almost seemed quaint. "Mr. President, Federation Representatives and honored guests," he began with sweeping gestures with his hands. "the Federation had seen difficult times in our recent past. We had just started recovering from the losses of the Cardassian War when were thrown into a short, but deadly conflict with the Borg. It seemed we had just taken a breath from that, when we were faced with the bloodiest wars in Federation history with the Dominion. Thankfully, because of the dedication, valor, and training of our Starfleet personnel, we were victorious."

He paused to give the audience time to applaud. "Now, we finally have a moment to breathe again. This time, however, we'll take that breath constructively. As we resume our efforts to explore this galaxy of ours peacefully, in the hopes of finding new friends, we renew our dedication to the safety of the Federation with this." He then motioned to the Warlord. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the USS Warlord." More applause. "The first of an entirely new breed of starship, the Dreadnaught series." Even more applause. "... the most advanced starship in the history of Starfleet." Eventually, the applause died down. "With this ship, and soon, others like her, the Federation will never have to fear another enemy. This vessel is equipped with the latest and more powerful offensive and defensive systems, which are controlled by the most sophisticated computer systems, which are under the control of some of the finest officers in Starfleet. Now, we can go forward in peace knowing our homes are finally secure." The audience gave a standing ovation. "Mr. President," Admiral Prescott said finally, "I present you the United Starship Warlord."

The admiral sat as the vulcan President took the podium. "My fellow members," he started. His voice was airy, as most elderly voices were. His stance was tall and his appearance rugged. "Most of us realize that war and bloodshed are not logical. From time to time, unfortunately, it is necessary. Recent history has shown us that the dangers of this galaxy are not confined to the outer rim, but can also be deep in the heart of our own home systems. This starship has already shown some of its capabilities in defending the Romulan homeworld from Reman extremists. While this vessel will never constitute the majority of Starfleet, neither will it become the primary mission of Starfleet, it will keep us safer. The dreadnaught fleet will, no doubt, prove a formidible deterrant to would-be aggressors. For that, and the service of the vessel already completed, we are grateful." The crowd applauded once again. President T'Ken continued his speech.

Stephen leaned over to his friend, Tony. "Notice how they keep downplaying our mission?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Tony answered in simliar voice.

"Shhhh." Captain Bolerov quipped. He leaned over to the other two. Without looking at them, he commented, "This project still has many critics; afraid this will turn the Federation into some kind of police state. Guard your words carefully, gentlemen. They are still looking for a reason to shut us down." 

The audience applauded again. Absently, the three applauded and smiled as well. Kirk leaned over to the captain. "Who is still trying to shut down the program?" He asked in a whisper.

With eyes still locked on the President, Andrei replied, "One of them is standing at the podium right now." The audience applauded again and the senior crew members applauded in kind. 


	30. Chapter 30

Commander Kirk sat as his appointed seat on the bridge along with everyone else as the various news crews took video and still pictures of the gray/white bridge. The Federation President stood and shook hands with Captain Bolerov as the cameras continued to flash around them. To Kirk's left was the captain's seat, almost directly in the center of the small bridge, which wasn't more than six meters in diameter. To the left of the captain's chair was an auxiliary seat, which Doctor Rass was currently using. Directly in front of Kirk was the tactical station, manned primarily by T'Nia. It was a traditional double-console that had navigation beside it, where Ensign Bristol was sitting. Behind the captain was the communications console, where Lieutenant Davies sat. To her left was the computer system administration console, where Tony Moreau sat. To her right was the auxiliary engineering console, where Lieutenant Kelly sat. Everyone was present and accounted for while the various dignitaries, 'honored guests', and politicians were ushered past. The crew did their best to 'look official' per the captain's command.

Stephen watched as Captain Bolerov laughed and shook hands with the visiting dignitaries, as though he had been with the crew the whole time. Never once did he even acknowledge the presence of the other crew, let alone give them... him... credit for the ship even being here. Statistically, Warlord should have lost the fight with the Reman warship. It was thanks mostly to the crews inventiveness and determination they won. Yet, there was Bolerov, smiling and schmoozing as though he had something to do with it. Kirk sat in his seat, staring straight ahead, breaking only on those rare occasions when someone from the press had a question to ask.

He didn't realize T'Nia was observing him until several minutes later. She had been reading his face and could tell he was upset. He was trying to cover it, he wasn't hiding it from her. This was going to be a rough first couple of weeks on Steve. He cornered her in the turbolift earlier this morning and relayed the discussion he had with the new captain. Certainly, it had been a poor choice of words on Stephen's part, but it had been an unwarranted reaction from the captain. She told Steve that, eventually, each would come to see the other's positive qualities, and the events from the past would bury themselves. It would seem they weren't quite buried yet. T'Nia had to admit she didn't prefer Captain Bolerov's leadership style, but she could understand the need for it. It was logical, simply not preferrable, but she could live with that.

Stephen eventually realized he was being watched by a rather intent-looking female vulcan. His gaze went from the viewscreen to her. Her expression softened a bit, an acknowledgement of understanding. He smiled at her. As he smiled, she simply turned back around to face forward, her job done. Stephen really wasn't sure what he would ever do without his friends. The raised voices on the bridge broke him out of his daydream. The visitors were being ushered off the bridge in preparation for the dedication ceremony and the 'new' inaugural flight.

The visitors safely off the bridge, Bolerov unhooked his collar. "Whew," he exclaimed. "Alright, people, by all means, you may remove your jackets. The 'meet-and-greet' is finally over." He took off his long red jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. Everyone else followed suit. 

The captain turned to Tom. "Lieutenant Kelly, power up the thrusters and impulse engines."

He then turned to Elaine. "Lieutenant Davies, let the commander know when the passengers have left."

"Aye, aye, Sir." she replied. Elaine turned back to her panel, tapped a few buttons, then looked at her screen, which was fixed on the walkway.

"Oh," Bolerov continued, "put the front platform on the main viewer. I want to see the bottle break... if it breaks." He smiled.

Stephen was curious. "What do you mean, 'if it breaks', Sir?"

"Well, Commander," Andrei answered with a knowing smile, "as I have been told, the success of this dedication is based entirely on the throwing arm of the President's wife."

"How the heck do you miss a starship?" Tom questioned to no one in particular.

Bolerov shrugged. "It's been known to happen. They either miss entirely, or don't put enough oomph on the toss, so the bottle just bounces off the hull. I'm surprised the video of President De'Drea's wife isn't still floating around. It's been almost thirty years, but her throw went so wide to the right, she actually broke one of the harbor lights instead." The crew chuckled. That was more of the reaction he was hoping for.

They watched as the people all gathered outside the great ship to the floating platform where the President and his wife were standing. Another dedication speech was given. No one was really paying attention until they heard Captain Bolerov say, "Okay, here we go." Everyone looked up to see the President's wife holding a large bottle of champaign.

"I hearby christen you registry NCC 7-6-0-3-2, United Starship Warlord. May she reign supreme in the heavens." With that, she tossed the bottle straight at the ship. Her aim was off by just a little bit, but her arm was strong. The bottle impacted just below the top front running light of the saucer section and shattered, spilling glass and champaign everywhere. Stephen could just hear Box complaining that he'd have to clean it up. There was applause from the crowd as they were led back into Spacedock proper.

With the last of the audience evacuated, the ship shuddered slightly as the hangar was depressurized. Captain Bolerov sat back in his chair and turned to Kirk. "Commander, get us out of here."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Kirk replied. "Mr. Bristol, thrusters to stationkeeping. Mr. Davies, signal the dockmaster and request permission to depart."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Tyler replied. With a few taps on his console, the thrusters heated up.

"Aye, aye, Sir." Elaine replied. She turned to her computer and began talking to the dockmaster.

Stephen looked at Tyler. "Tyler, you know you have to rotate us on our Y in order to get out the door, remember?"

Tyler smiled, "Yes, Sir... I remembered that... just a few seconds ago, but I remembered that."

"Good man." Stephen concluded.

"Sir," Elaine began, "the Dockmaster is retracting the walkways and opening the door. We have permission to leave."

"Acknowledge that, Lieutenant." Kirk nodded to Davies. She confirmed the statement to the dockmaster. Here we go again, she thought. Stephen addressed everyone. "Just a quick note to everyone... remember we have a REAL computer core now, so the ship shouldn't lag any more. I know we got used to that before..."

"I'm sure they're aware of that, Commander." Bolerov interrupted.

The look of surprised realization on Bristol's face implied at least one person had forgotten.

Ignoring Tyler's reaction, Kirk merely replied, "Yes, Sir." Kirk wasn't about to let that interruption rattle him. "Lieutenant Davies, switch the main viewscreen to front view."

"Aye, aye, Sir." She tapped controls on her console. The main screen switched from the now retracting platform to the front view of the ship. Before them, they saw the massive double doors of the hangar opening.

"Front doors secure, Sir." Elaine relayed from her communications post. "So are the gangplanks."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He turned to face the helmsman. "Ensign Bristol, forward thrusters to sixty kph. Get us out of here."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" He answered excitedly.

"Let us see what today holds for us, ladies and gentlemen." Captain Bolerov said with a smile.

With that, the USS Warlord slowly maneuvered out of the hangar; it's large, gray form reflecting the morning sun as it crept into sight of the open hangar. It slowly banked as it left the hangar then gently turned as it cruised into a high orbit around the Earth. 

Warlord was officially deployed. 


End file.
